


Legend of Zelda: Prophecy of Darkness

by Anonymous



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: After Era of Chaos, After Era of Prosperity, After Force Era, After Skyward Sword, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Character Death(s), Era of Prosperity, Era of the Hero of Time, F/M, Force Era, Gen, Hyrule - Freeform, Major Character Injury, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Ocarina of Time, Original Character Death(s), Orphans, Other, Past Hyrule, Prequel, Second Era of Prosperity, Temple of Time, Time Period: Before Ocarina of Time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Pre Ocarina of Time, post Force Era and Hyrulean Civil War.In the heat and heart of what's being called Hyrule's 'Second Era of Prosperity', shy and aloof Link has never known life outside of being a blacksmith's apprentice. Yet all of that changes when his home town is raided and burnt to the ground, sending him running and ultimately thrown into a quest to not only rescue those that were abducted in the chaos, but to foil a nefarious plot to give an ancient evil foothold in the world once again.Joined by a young woman whose sister was among those taken, both of them must contend with not only the harsh, unforgiving wilderness outside of their home, but also bands of thieves and monsters, gargantuan beasts, angry and vengeful inhabitants of areas outside the borders, as well as the looming threat of civil war on all sides.And all the while, the forces behind the destruction of their homes and abduction of their loved ones are always watching, waiting, and soon, seek to not only find them, yet to let the evil they serve feast on their blood...





	1. Delivery Day

**Author's Note:**

> First ever Zelda fanfiction (not really, but that one is better left forgotten, as it was done when I was 12) and first of many chapters! 
> 
> Before we begin, if it wasn't made clear enough, this story takes place before the events of Ocarina of Time, but long after the Minish Cap and Force Era, and before the Hyrulean Cival War. OCs are included in this, yet several nods and incarnations of canon characters will be present as well, so I hope that you enjoy!

The sun's vibrant rays shone down on the structure as if the star itself was giving its blessing for it to continue standing for another day. Yet another mystery that the young man pondered over, only adding to the allure, yet also the befuddlement he associated with the far away building as from his view and the view of many others, it looked nearly ready to fall apart at any given moment. It certainly couldn't compare to the majestic and iconic framework that was Hyrule Castle. Whilst both could be seen from the open window of his room, the grand palace always overshadowed the crumbling building. Yet whomever held power over the royal duties of the land apparently saw fit to keep it standing, even in its poor condition, so it must've held some sort of significance. Even if his questioning of his guardian garnered nothing but a vague answer, even he seemed to agree that there must've been some reason that the old thing wasn't torn down by now.

The young man in question that gazed out of the small window was one with a body that wasn't exactly enormous or overly developed, yet given his profession, albeit an obligatory one, the muscles he had developed over the years of being the striker for the old man working down below. Reasonably sized deltoids and biceps needed to swing the hammer needed for striking the red hot iron as the one doing the majority of what he called the hard stuff held it over the anvil with tongs and directed where to swing. Abdominal muscles were toned as well, yet like his arms, they were not overly developed, just like the rest of his form. Toned and with muscles visible, yet only just enough so that he was just that and no more, something of which he considered that perhaps he should change. Maybe put in some heavy lifting during his free time, that sledgehammer, even with what he had gained from just that alone, still didn't get any lighter. Though his exposure to the heat of the forge was something that he needed to perhaps lessen his time with, his skin was akin to his body, a warm apricot, yet in time, it'd probably be as tan as the old man he lived with.

His attire was not all that fancy or extravagant either, both due to his line of work and the fact that even with the dependence his living area put on his guardian, that didn't mean that a surplus amounts of rupees came falling into their hands. To bear better with the almost always present heat, he kept his golden hair up in a small, high tail, there not much he could put up as it was, yet even allowing his hair to be its regular length below his jawline was near impossible, the ponytail aiding him by a small margin. A simple, grey, sleeveless tunic served as a top with a brown, sleeveless vest that ended midway lying over top, the leather worn and old. A belt about as old and worn as the vest was fastened around his waist, his black trousers not having a place to feed it through, and more leather straps were wrapped around his wrists His arms bore finger-less gloves so to speak, a somewhat turquoise green and ending at his elbows. But the most colorful thing of his entire outfit, his boots too following the darker, blander color scheme. A bit striking to his rather gold hair and sky blue irises.

Speaking of the old man, "Hey, Link! Oi! Get yourself down here son!" he found it odd that he wasn't called down sooner. "Don't have time to finish this here and get you away from that window!"

Link, the young man mused as he lifted himself from the small, simple bed stationed by said window. It was his name, of course, though where it came from or what it meant, he knew not, wondering as to why the title was cast onto him. It wasn't as if he was ashamed of it or anything of the sort, yet the reactions to it when it was learned by others was that it was indeed met with a similar sentiment: a strange name that was ironically so simple to say and spell. He couldn't have said that he had met any other 'Links' in his life, yet nevertheless; Link acknowledged that, according to the old man calling him down, his title was the only connection he held to those that originally birthed him.

"Oi! I haven't gone deaf from all this hammering yet, so I know you can hear me!"

And said old man was steadily growing more and more impatient, signaling that Link needed to hurry it up. His room, or rather, his AND the old man's room was a simple loft up above the main hub of the building, the living quarters not even half of what the working area's size. Though given said work, perhaps that was for the better, as it was better than having to camp out in the wilderness, or so the old man said. Climbing down the ladder that allowed access to the loft, the young man's guardian and owner of both the small space he worked and the even smaller space of where they rested still hammered away at the yellow-orange piece of metal atop of the large anvil. He knew he was there, and would eventually acknowledge Link's presence, it was just in his nature to continue until he eventually got himself to mellow out from the intense focus he put himself in.

As predicted, the old, tan skinned man stopped his hammering and gazed up at the young man, his assistant and charge. "Good." he simply stated. "Was wondering whether or not I'd have to throw on of those there to get your attention." he chuckled, gesturing towards the various hard and sharpened tools that rested on the stock racks. Well, his rather blunt and somewhat dark sense of humor still remained the same as ever, Link mused. It certainly hadn't changed since he was but a young child being trained in the art.

The old man's name was certainly longer and more complicated than Link's, at least in the young man's own eyes. Osmivanna, blacksmith and weapons extraordinaire, or so the aged individual so claimed. Given his age though, Link needn't be told twice that he at least held a good amount of experience with the foraging and tampering of iron and other precious metals. His skin was tan and dark, ironic as he didn't get out of the shop much, the place intentionally kept dark due to his profession needing such, the only source of light being from the small windows in the loft, Link the only one out of the two that bothered to uncover and open his. It was rather surprising that Osmivanna continued to work and do such heavy labor in his age of seventy-two, the only limbs that seemed to be in the same condition as they had been twenty or even thirty years ago being his muscled arms, everything else from his legs to his face seeming to shrink up and wrinkle. Grey fibers that protruded from the back of his head as the front was mostly bald were tied up in a short tail, some escaping the tie and creating a small, short, shaggy mane that extended to the base of his neck. Or rather, his upper back, his posture having grown more forward leaning over the years.

As a blacksmith, Osmivanna dressed the part as well, though Link hadn't really known of seeing the elderly man in anything else. A simple, brown apron over a turquoise tunic that was even more worn down and aged than the apron, the sleeves torn from their original places and giving it a rugged, tattered look. Dark trousers similar to Link's own rested on his far thinner legs, brown, leather shoes and worn socks on his feet. A simple necklace rested around his neck, various small beads and stones around the small strands of braided rope, Link not knowing the origin of it, nor of the dark tattoo that was on the old man's right shoulder. The marking was a symbol that definitely belonged to a race outside of their own, angled and resembling the shape of a diamond, yet at the top, instead of a single point, it split into three, two pointing in parallel directions whilst the middle pointed upward.

"Course the sledgehammer's right over there. That'd get your attention for sure." Link's eyes immediately widened at his long ears catching that, the elderly man releasing a dry, husky chuckle at his reaction. "Knew that'd get you. I've been telling you what I need you to do for me while you've been fixated on that ol' thing there on my shoulder." yet instead of anger or frustration, Osmivanna simply sighed. Link used to get light taps on the back of his head whenever he was being inattentive, yet the boy had indeed grown quite a bit since then, not to mention gained a few feet ahead of him. "It's delivery day, son. You know what to do."

Delivery day...of course. Whilst the blacksmith told his assistant in a 'matter-of-fact' way, this wasn't to indicate that he was indifferent about how the older teen felt about it. Given his still strong arms and knowledge of how to work and bend metal to his whim under the pressure of scalding heat produced by the forge he scarcely left, Osmivanna was somewhat ashamed to admit that, unfortunately, his legs and back hadn't been what they used to be. And thus, the younger, more able young man was simply more equipped and ready to take his finished products and deliver it to their clients. Link was more than aware of this, having assisted with, and now taken up, the duty of delivery since the blacksmith's back began giving him some problems. That all said; it was something that the blonde dreaded, not to mention wished to get done as soon as possible.

"Don't stress yourself too much about it though." Osmivanna clarified, easing himself up from his current position, groans and complaints of his back not withstanding, and going over towards the stock racks. He might've possessed a few problems with said back, yes, yet he was far from helpless and was more than willing to prove it whenever Link got that familiar concern on his face. "It's a few regulars." though given the task and what day it was, perhaps the youth should've kept some of the concern for himself.

"Now..." he pointed towards a good sized saw with a blue handle. "Mutoh's saw is going to be your first stop, so...you're going to have to go into town for that one." a twinge of guilt seeped into his rough voice. "Just stay around the corners, and hopefully those vendors won't bother you none." it wasn't as if Osmivanna wished to put this on Link, especially given the boy's general attitude and history with not Mutoh or his associates, but the location of which their business was located. Even so, it had to be done. Besides, there would be a silver lining to this delivery session at least.

"Course, after that," he then gestured towards a scythe. "You get to visit the ranch. Your buddy, Terran's expecting his pop's tool by this afternoon." Link's mood brightened at that, even if just by some amount. He'd still have to pay town a visit. "Just tell that fool of a boy to not go messing it up again!" the old man ordered, Link unable to contain his humored giggles, yet immediately nodded upon seeing his guardian's authoritative glare. "And the last one I've got right here." reaching into the pouch stationed on the front of his apron, Osmivanna pulled out a small, metal mortar to rest in his calloused palm. "Though you could just run it by their shop, the one who requested it told me that it'd probably be best to give it to her, seeing as her folks are going to be out for most of the day. She might be heading out to those woods." he placed it in Link's own hand. "Don't lose it, you hear? Those folks are living like us, son. Maybe on even less, so whatever help they can get is probably going to mean whether they get to eat or not for the night."

A minute or two later, Link exited Osmivanna's shop, a large brown bag hoisted onto his back with the completed works nestled inside, or in the scythe's case, poking out of the top flap. And while the old man's orders were not to be disobeyed and patience definitely not a virtue he held outside of his craft, Link couldn't help himself in taking a few moments to pause and observe the surrounding environment of which he and Osmivanna called home. The blacksmith's, and in turn, Link's residence, wasn't exactly anything extravagant or fancy. A simple, two story building of wood with a dark, gable roof of black tiles, though the 'two story' wasn't exactly indicative of it being an expansive abode, most of the space was mainly used to comprise of the necessities for his guardian's work, the beds and table and essentially everything else that wasn't part of the shop making up the small, upper level that was the loft. Nevertheless, it was still home, the only home that he had known, so perhaps he was looking at the old building through rose-colored glasses because it was near impossible to view it from any other angle.

'Be grateful, boy.' is what Osmivanna always responded with whenever Link expressed dissatisfaction at having such a small space to recline and do anything else in while the rest of the building was composed of the smith's tools and needed elements for work. 'I've spent days out hauling rock and pulling carts through the fiercest of storms, so I know what it's like to have nothing more than a tent over my head!'

Link had no idea as to how much, let alone, if anything of the old man's telling of such times were true, but still, he was ultimately right in that at least they had a stable place to live, as well as a not-so-stable, but still guaranteed income. Better than the few sparse, shoddy huts that had long been abandoned and left to rot when residing in the southern part of town came to be the preferred option as it grew and grew in prosperity, most packing up and relocating. Now, the only that resided in the most eastern portion of the residential community were Link himself, Osmivanna, and the aforementioned other shop, though the various small creatures and animals that perhaps resided in the collection of trees surrounding the area held the majority of the population here. If one were to simply come here and pass through, they wouldn't have even believed that this very town bore the name after the late King, the supposed 'pride and joy' of the small kingdom of Hyrule as so proudly claimed by Mayor Kravindish.

Harkinian Town, the hotbed and most popular trading town in all the land.

Though Link had sometimes pondered as to why Osmivanna didn't move shop towards where his services would be more noticed and in turn, sought out, he was still grateful. Some less than desirable living conditions aside, the young man would rather put up with a smaller domestic space than having to face the boisterous, horrid ringing and all around racket that came from the middle of town, especially today. And of course, delivery day would fall onto THAT particular day of the week, the day when the market was at its busiest and had most of its best deals ready for eager buyers. That was fine with him, they could have that place, even if where he lived was considered the outskirts, or more bluntly, the 'armpit' of the town, he'd be better off here than having to set foot and listen to that noise all day! Away from all that noise...away from having to make contact or conversation. Yet still, he had a job to do, and whether Link liked it or not (and he definitely did NOT), these finished products weren't going to deliver themselves.

He moved forward, ears twitching as the calling and obnoxious ringing could still be heard from even this distance away.

**Most Center Portion of Town-Market Place**

It was just a short trip, which was all. Just a short, quick trip from the shop to the town square, and then the carpenter's shop. That was the general mantra that Link kept reciting to himself in his mind, mentally repeating that statement over and over again, word by word, syllable by syllable. True, it wasn't the best method, as it seemed to do little to block out everything around him, yet lest he get an earful from the old man, he wasn't going anywhere until he got his part of the job done.

No matter what sort of reputation this town had, Link never thought that it warranted all of this.

Ringing bells and shouting voices echoed and reverberated throughout the entirety of the town square, stands upon stands and tents with a nearly limitless array of items and goods out on display had garnered the attention of all there, whether they were locals of the living area or not. This itself was far from common. In fact, as Link observed whenever he was forced to make his way through here, more outsiders and people he had never laid eyes on before frequented the market place than the local denizens. Good for business, he supposed, yet if that was the case, then he'd be far better off with simply taking requests or handling said business from afar. Let someone else handle the rowdy, frantic shoppers with their throwing handfuls of rupees for some strange, supposedly exotic object as if their very life depended on it. He couldn't understand it, what was so special about a red rock that was supposedly plucked away from the very heights of Death Mountain? Besides, according to Osmivanna, most of those stones were just taken from the bottom of the nearby river and extra material to make it sparkle was added to it.

Those tactics, however, ultimately lead to this place becoming what it was today. Harkinian Town at first didn't even have a name, at least from what Link was aware. From the tales told to him by the elderly blacksmith he resided with, this town began as a simple village, much alike the various other villages that were stationed around the small country of Hyrule. Of course, as the early residents of the kingdom began to expand and develop, there was the discussion of a capital city needing to be established. That, at least at first, was actually a place very similar to Harkinian Town itself, just set up around the landmark castle itself, it bearing the simpler yet still appropriate name, Hyrule Town. It had lasted a good decades, at least according to Osmivanna, there actually some event that was held there every century or so by the name of the Picori Festival. Then there was something about little imp like creatures supposedly coming through some barrier and only being seen by children, Link didn't know, he was admittedly just confused by the whole story. Little people that could only be seen by children...well, that was certainly something he would've liked to know a few years before he reached the age of thirteen, even if three more years had passed since that revelation.

Nevertheless, while the details weren't exactly known to him, according to the old man, there was some sort of incident that occurred that must've been large enough to result in the majority of Hyrule Town's inhabitants to scamper away and settle in the villages that were scattered throughout the land now, what was once Harkinian Town being one of them. Though, it seemed that those who partook more in the trading business seemed to migrate here due to the closer proximity to the castle, and given it being just near miles away from the waters of Lake Hylia, thus allowing for an even more abundantly close resource to profit from, the small village eventually gained more and more popularity and size, developing and developing until it garnered the very attention of the late King himself. This honor had lead to them giving themselves his namesake, it in turn remaining a lasting mark of his and his Queen's rule after their untimely demise. Of how or what had caused King Harkinian or Queen Zelda to perish was not known to Link, nor was what had transpired to cause the supposedly equally prosperous Hyrule Town to be up and abandoned, the entire area now apparently, while it still existed, it had become far smaller than it previously was, and only held half of the shops as before, being renamed Castle Town. And as it seemed to be, Osmivanna wasn't telling anymore than what he wished to, telling the young man that he didn't need to concern himself or become infatuated in knowing such details.

'Not now.' it was odd, and the blacksmith vehemently denied it upon the young man questioning him (the best he could), yet Link could've sworn that he had said those exact words when he asked him upon hearing some bits and pieces of the town's said history. Even more, it sounded as if he were on the verge of tears when he muttered the statement.

"FRESH VEGETABLES!"

Well, that certainly brought him back to the present, unfortunately. He'd rather be anywhere than here. Especially now. It wasn't as if Link just simply hated the marketplace as a whole, that wouldn't make any sense to him. After all, he passed through here nearly every day, whether to be off somewhere of his choosing on a day off or whenever he was wishing to acquire something from one of the few stands set up. Of course, the key word being 'few'. Not a few dozen or so.

"FRESH FRUIT! GROWN STRAIGHT FROM THE MOST FERTILE SOIL!"

Not a few dozen or so run by shrieking, wailing owners that, if they thought they weren't being loud enough, gave the bell that seemed to be at almost every one of these things a good, obnoxious ring or two (sometimes three or four) to make their point. Link, without a doubt, LOATHED the market place on days like today. On those few days where the hectic madness of screaming and pushing and shoving weren't present, Link held no contempt, but come Monday, unless he had to, he tried to stay clear away. Yet today, he lamented, he didn't have that luxury, and there was no other way towards the carpenter's but forward and up.

"Come and buy!"

One foot in front of the other, then repeat. Yes, he was doing it. Go forward and keep going until the mid-section was reached, that was where the most space was. Then go up. These instructions were listed in his mind and continuously repeating themselves, in a vain effort to drown out the noise.

"An apple a day, you know! Come try them out!"

Lowering his head might've been a good option, give more of an indication he wasn't interested. Besides, it wasn't as if he looked like someone who had extra cash to simply throw around. Worn out vest and pants, and an even more worn out tunic! Plus, the large sack he was carrying on his back was surely a good enough indication that he was busy and wouldn't have time to sit and chat.

"Hey, how are you doing?"

By the great Goddesses themselves, he could only hope. He was nearby, just a few feet more. Nestled in the most upper portion of the plaza and at the right was Mutoh's shop. Just a few more feet to go, then he'd be set to get out of here!

"Hey, young man!"

No, don't answer. It was rude, yes, but he couldn't afford to stop, he had a job to do. It was an excuse to avoid having to stop and talk, yes, but if that was what he had to use, so be it.

"Yo, where are you off to in such a hurry?!"

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"Oh, never mind! Weirdo."

Almost there, so close! He didn't want to stop and talk. He couldn't stop and talk. Well, technically, he couldn't really do only one of those…

"Fresh Zora eggs!"

His destination was just a few feet away, literally, he could see Mutoh's shop right in front of him, sign swinging up on the small hanger to the left of the door frame as if it were beckoning him to simply slip inside. 'Inside here lies sanctuary from all of this.' it seemed to say. 'You hate it out here as it is. You always hate having to travel through here when it's like this. Come inside.' what he had just heard though, 'Forget about it. Come inside.' what his ears just managed to catch, 'It has nothing to do with you.' he couldn't help but stop himself and look back.

At the second stand to the east, the stand in particular bearing a white and sky blue covering stood a rather ornately dressed, young woman. She wore a cloak of pure white that heavily contrasted with the deep red of her robes underneath, concealing some of the more fine details embroidered on the clothing. And whilst he couldn't see exactly what she was being handed at first, Link could suspect that there was something of value in the bottle she was handed, filled with water and some sort of round object with a pale blue coloring.

"Ah, lovely!" the woman exclaimed, examining the small, round object, even giving the bottle a little shake. "Is it true what they say, good sir? That these here can truly make you look young and live longer?"

The stand's owner let out a small chuckle. "My lady," he assured. "Rumors such as these came from when I was just a lad! And so far, there's not been one word of it being proven wrong!"

"Excellent!" the woman proclaimed. "Lady Alma will be most pleased!"

He was beginning to regret not taking the opportunity to simply go inside. Link wasn't entirely sure of what to even think, aside from the fact that apparently, not just eggs, but Zora eggs... the potential possibilities and images attached to them were immediately forced from his wandering mind. They...they probably weren't even actual Zora eggs anyway. Besides, it wasn't as if cuckoos were treated much better, yet then again...it was only the unfertilized eggs that were handed out to be sold and eaten. At least from what Osmivanna told him when he was young because he thought the yolk was actually the chick and they had just cooked it alive (not to mention, he actually cried over such a stupid misunderstanding). It was probably the same case with this, nothing more. And besides, they probably weren't even selling actual Zora eggs to begin with anyway. Just simply painting them up to look like them (he assumed, having never seen one before). Just like the supposed precious metals here, a phony.

Yes, that was it, which was all it was, Link assured himself, not allowing himself to dwell on it, or at least trying to. It wasn't as if that little thing the woman was shaking in the bottle was an actual, genuine Zora egg. Besides...even if it was, which it wasn't, probably, then...then what could he even do about it?

Pushing the subject away for what seemed to be the umpteenth time, Link was about to knock on the door, yet found that as he grabbed the handle, it seemed to be unlocked as it easily came to him as he pulled. Waiting a few moments, there seemed to be no protest coming from inside to his entry, and the noise was reaching its peak, so the young man swiftly made his way inside, large, bulking sack and all.

It was a quickly made judgment, perhaps even premature, yet Link was already convinced that even far smaller spaced, confined shop was indeed a vastly superior alternative to the more open spaced madness outside. Confined, mainly due to the bevy of tools hanging from the rafters above him just a few feet, some actually able to reach the top of his blonde head had the young man passed underneath them. The interior of the shop was nothing unexpected, especially given what it served and the owner of said shop. Just about everything was crafted from wood: from the obvious pieces such as the workbench and out feed table to the less obvious such as the racks holding the tools too heavy to simply hang up to even the lumber storage. Even Osmivanna's storage racks were just that, racks, Link thought. Nevertheless, from the looks of it, he was granted with a lot of open space compared to usual as nothing was laid out atop of the feed table, taking the opportunity and setting the large sack atop of it to grant his back a bit of rest.

Of course, looking around more around the unusually quiet and even more unusually empty shop, Link was beginning to believe that, to his dismay, by some inexplicable stroke of horrible timing and luck, he had arrived either too early or even worse, too late. Yet that in itself made little sense. Yes, the shop was not particularly the busiest on Mondays, yet there was almost always at least some sort of indication that someone WAS indeed here.

It was then that Link noticed a small light coming from behind a tattered drape in the back to the right, the only other source of light being from the rays seeping through the glass. And judging from the growing mumbling and complaining his ears were beginning to notice, he was more than relieved that his journey here through that horrid market hadn't been for nothing.

"GAH!" and even more, it was just the person he had been seeking for the first delivery! "Where ARE those slackers?!" the brash and more than irritated voice groaned, Link pondering on whether or not he should even try and approach the one behind the drape.

True, he was the first delivery of his first stop, yet given how his 'moods' were more than a little infamous to essentially anyone who had the slightest knowing of him, would even making a single step be wise? Or would it just put in right in the way of being a recipient for his wrath?

Apparently, he was going to find out whether he was ready to or not, as the unseen figure behind the drape seemed to finally notice that his shop had just been entered. "Oh, well FINALLY!" the gruff, slightly hoarse voice shouted, loud steps echoing through the entire shop indicating that the owner was coming closer and closer until a large hand slipped out from the slight opening behind the drape and pushed it out of the way. "About time ONE of you showed up! Where in Nayru's divine name have you..." of course, instead of one of his muscled, able fellow carpenters, the older man found himself gazing at the smaller, far younger, and blonde young man that was probably more than a little nervous from his outburst. 'Oh great.' he couldn't help but think. 'Gone and scared the poor kid out of his wits most likely.' the only emotion that was able to come from him was nothing short of absolute embarrassment. "Eh...heh. Hey there, Link."

With a small wave of his hand, Link found he couldn't stop himself from letting a sigh of relief to exit his throat. Then came to him waving his hands as if to indicate he wasn't attempting to offend, though nothing would make this rather awkward introduction any more uncomfortable than it already was, even if the misunderstanding was cleared up.

The man before Link was one that, whilst the apprentice blacksmith knew well since his early youth, he was mainly known as someone that unless you had a history with, he wasn't exactly the most ascetically pleasing to look at, let alone approach. This wasn't to say that he was unsightly in appearance, yet his telltale gruffness and particular expression of harshness and a deeply furrowed brow seemed to put out the image that he wasn't exactly the friendliest of people, of which wasn't the truth at all. At least to those who actually managed to be brave enough and actually approach him or held a long history.

Mutoh the Carpenter, the best in all of Hyrule as he claimed, was in no way a bad guy. He just was more known for some of his less desirable qualities, more likely than not due to his impulsiveness that, even in his age, seemed to be as quick and acted on as it was forty years ago. At least, Link assumed so, according to Osmivanna's claims, the old blacksmith having known the carpenter far longer than he had even been alive. Even now, in his far more advanced age of sixty, the old man claimed that the only way he'd stop working was when he was put in the ground, and from the looks of his form, Link thought that this was a claim that he very well could follow to the letter. Age had begun to show itself, his hair gone from his head and the only remains of it being his burly, thick brows and mustache, both of which were a snowy white. While he had gained a bit of a gut over the years, Mutoh's arms were still muscled and large, as well as his almost always puffed out, barrel chest. It was common, outright expected, to see him with no shirt on, displaying his built pectorals, yet his upper half was partially covered by a deep blue vest with golden trimmings on the hem guard and arm holes. His lower half was another story, completely covered with golden trousers that bore black, striking stripes all over, and where the garments ended, bandages began, being wrapped around Mutoh's calves to his ankles, of where simple, brown shoes rested with worn out socks hidden inside on his feet.

"So, uh..." Mutoh began again, giving the back of his bald head a rub, cursing the flush his cheeks were getting at having mistaken Link for one of his own. "Guess you're here to deliver some of your old man's work, huh?" No audible answer came from the young man, the question being answered by a nod of the head, yet such an answer was of no surprise to the carpenter, his connection to Osmivanna long and ongoing, and so in turn, the same applied to Link. 'Better than trying to make the poor kid get something out of his mouth.' Reaching into the sack that was set down on the feed table (accidentally managing to prick himself on the item), the blonde teen managed to pull out the desired object, Mutoh in turn taking it and examining it. "Ah...good as new!" the old man heatedly proclaimed. "Not that I'd doubt your old man! One of the select few that you can actually trust with getting a job done and done right!" it was somewhat hilarious in hindsight. Mutoh would shout his mouth off and go off on anyone he deemed needing a 'good talking to', yet Link couldn't think of one time where he bad-mouthed his guardian, at least not openly. Privately was something unknown entirely, and something that gave the young man slight shudders on whether or not it'd be better or even worse.

Of course, given of what he was actually able to see from the more hidden, concealed side of Mutoh, perhaps all of that harshness and domineering presence was more of an act to save face and obtain respect. After all, he had never been the subject of one of his tirades. At least not intentionally.

"Mr. Mutoh, sir!" of course, now, to his shock and dismay, Link found that perhaps he was going to witness one of those tirades firsthand. The door swung open from the collective amount of weight behind it, yet given that it wasn't locked, it failed to support the four, burly men that came tumbling in. The first of the four that came to the door before the other three came barreling into him in a rush to get to the shop on time looked up and was somewhat thankful that he hadn't come to see his boss staring down at him. "Oh, hey there, Link." he said, he and the rest of his fellow workers steadily getting themselves up off the floor and at a standing position. While they all knew well they were in hot water, perhaps with the young man here, their boss wouldn't be as willing to be so hard on them.

As embarrassing and humorous as the entire situation was, and as difficult as it was to try and keep his own sentiments about it contained, Link couldn't afford to let his own reaction slip out, lest he too make himself an object of Mutoh's already present irritation. Somewhat selfish? Perhaps, yet when it came to Mutoh, it was always treated serious if he was mad, and ultimately, self-preservation won out over his natural reaction. Besides, it wasn't as if he had much to say as it was.

The four subjects of Link's guilty amusement and Mutoh's frustration were none other than his very own workers, his fellow carpenters. Though it only took one glance from each one of them and to their superior to immediately notice the major differences. It also only took a few moments alone with them to also notice the differences that lay beneath the physical appearances as well, despite that even Link at first once believed that maybe all four of them were somehow related. Mutoh put on the show and talk of, to put it bluntly (the type of manner the man in question was more than favorable of), a 'manly man'. 'Show no weakness, show no tears, show no feeling' was his creed and how he conducted himself. This wasn't to indicate he was an unfeeling or uncaring individual, being a father to two himself, yet it seemed to be a taboo of sorts that with what he presented to everyone else but a select few not be broken in any way. Link himself didn't entirely understand it, yet then again, Osmivanna did the exact same, and he had yet to understand why he too held such a code. Something that just had to do with getting old, he simply assumed.

Mutoh's workers, on the other hand, if it weren't for their robust and muscular physique, were nothing short of a collection of perfect opposites of the older, more assertive man. Bremor, Brent, Doyle, and Mack, Link having known them for less time then he had known Mutoh and Osmivanna, yet nevertheless, the four men took an immediate liking for the young man. It was also noted that unlike Mutoh, they were far more ample to discuss and go into personal matters, openly conversing with one another about their lives, families, etc., and even more ample to complain of working conditions being too hard or demanding. Not to mention that they all were far more open and expressive, as well as honest with their emotions than their boss could probably be, at least in the open. A little more (or maybe a lot more) in-tune and in touch with what his guardian called the 'feminine side'. So in-tune and touch, that both Mutoh and Osmivanna were more than ready to declare the four nothing more than a bunch of whining, lazy slackers. Well, Mutoh more or less called them that, Link's guardian outright called them pansies.

Pansies or not (he was unsure, as the term was used in a negative way), Link saw no reason to not at least marginally like the four as, even if they were bearing of those supposed 'feminine', 'pansy' traits and were also apparent slackers, they were more than courteous and welcoming to him. Sure, at first the consensus among them of his apparent shyness and reluctance to speak was somewhat odd, yet also endearing. Cute even. He was that to them, a cute boy. And as far as he was concerned, being a 'cute boy' was better than getting a collective number of puzzled, or even vexing, judging looks.

Garbed in what seemed to be something of a 'uniform' for the trade, or at least Mutoh's shop, Link didn't know (Osmivanna far from caring what he wore), yet there was a prevalent theme of vests and similarly styled trousers and bandages. Of course, unlike Mutoh, the vests of the four men were sleeveless and the trousers bore no patterns, instead display a small palette of colors. Bremor, the first of the four, bore a hairstyle that made it appear as if two spikes were sticking out of the top of his head, his trousers a vibrant green. Brent had what was known as a devilock, yet contrary to the style's name, his trousers were a pure, clean white. Doyle bore a far simpler flattop, yet he was definitely the most showy, his trousers a bright shade of magenta or even hot pink. And finally, there was Mack, who held the title of most eccentric hair, having allow his already fluffy hair to grow into a large, boisterous afro, bearing a lighter shade of, yet still blue, pair of trousers.

"See here?" Mutoh suddenly spoke up, all of them seizing up with fear, and to a degree, Link couldn't help but pity them. Yet suddenly, he found a large, meaty hand roughly patting his bare shoulder, his own vest and grey top doing little to ease the blows that were meant to be gentle pats. "You four could learn a thing or two from this boy here!" Each and every pat sent a wave of pressure and pain traveling up his shoulder, yet still Link grinned and bore it, he had to, lest he potentially offend. "Hasn't gotten into getting his working hands yet, but at least he knows how to be punctual!" thankfully, after a few more hits, the last nearly knocking Link forward, Mutoh's friendly gesture ceased. "Anyway, thanks for the delivery." the old man thanked, stepping out of the way to allow the young man to once again hoist the sack onto his back. He then looked to his crew of four. "Well?! What are you waiting for?! Boy's busy here making deliveries! Give him some room!" a few moments of scrambling later, eventually, Bremor and Brent parted to the right whilst Doyle and Mack to the left, creating an open space for Link to exit. Whilst he was rough in more ways than one, ultimately, at least Link could also count of him not keeping him for too long. It took a bit for him to adjust to the added weight to his back, but it didn't take long for the blonde teen to make his exit, leaving the four far milder men at the mercy of their older boss. "Alright, you four!" Mutoh ordered, going to the small space behind the drape and coming back with a large sack thrown over his shoulder. "It's off to the ranch for us! A horse and a wagon, and we'll be on our way!"

Oh yeah...that was today...wasn't it?

It didn't take long for it to dawn on Mutoh that something was wrong. His large, thick brows drooped. "You all forgot...didn't you?"

"Oh no, sir! Not about that!" Mack assured. "I had the boys mark it on all of their calendars!

"So why aren't your supplies with you?" the older carpenter inquired, gesturing to the white sack he possessed. "You're supposed to bring your assigned rations of food and cooking utensils."

"Yeah, well, about that, boss..." Doyle began, twiddling his fingers. "We were kinda under the impression that we'd meet up here, THEN we'd go and pack up.

"So that we wouldn't be in a rush and maybe cause a mess! I mean..." it was shameful to admit, Bremor acknowledged, yet still, he had to. "We DID sort of barge in here and had the sacks been with us and filled...nothing but squashed vegetables would be what be served."

Whether the boss's silence should've been a sign that they were okay or not, neither of them knew, yet still, oddly enough, while the anger was more than present on his features, it was something that he could see a point in. While it was far from what the plan was, at least now, there was assurance there wouldn't be any wasted food...assuming they wouldn't find some other way to mess up. "Fine." Mutoh sighed. "Go to your places and fill up. But!" he added before they eagerly left. "Five minutes, then we're out to the ranch!"

* * *

'Gotten into getting his working hands yet...' Link reflected, looking down at his own palms. It was due to him being sucked into this train of thought and analysis of his own, physical hands that allowed him to somewhat block out the still ongoing, bustling noise outside the shop and move to the north, the familiar, repetitive echoes of deals and bells growing more and more distant as he exited that portion of Harkinian Town.

It was the truth, to a degree. Granted, over the years from Osmivanna's training and getting his body conditioned enough to handle swinging the large hammer for striking, they still bore a considerable amount of smoothness. There were a few places where calluses had developed, particularly on where his proximal digital crease rested as well as the middle crease along his fingers, yet aside from those areas, the young man's hands still retained its natural 'plushness'.

Did 'working hands' mean that he'd have to lose that and everything be all tough and devoid of any sort of trace of at least some natural softness? Link assumed so, given especially how not only Mutoh's hands, yet also just about everything else with him was completely devoid of this softness. Yet that in itself wasn't entirely true, especially given how he had seen this 'softness' on occasion. Especially with the young woman that he could see out in the small, fenced in area to his right.

"Oh! He-achoo! Hello, Link!"

It was too complicated for him to figure out. He would just simply ask Osmivanna about it later, he having a far better understanding of Mutoh than anyone. Well, almost anyone, perhaps, particularly, the red haired woman waving at him and beckoning him to come over. He was about to, yet the weight on his back was more than a small reminder that he wasn't finished with his work just yet.

"Oh, of course! I'm sorry!" the red haired woman that was display quite a case of sniffles thanks to the ivory feathered bird she held in her arms, letting loose another sneeze in the crook of one of them (yet also bringing her fact and in turn contact with the bird closer ranged). "Grog, watch these dears for me, would you?"

The 'Grog' in question being the almost sickeningly thin man sitting on the ground atop of a small box, hands limply hanging over his kneecaps and head always down. Though upon the woman asking this request, he crooked his neck to face her, then to the birds in the pen. With a small, nearly unnoticeable nod, the red haired woman abandoned her post and began to make her way over to Link.

She was a middle-aged woman that, despite her more striking hair color, her eyes were wide and childlike, as if she still possessed some sort of juvenile tendencies and curiosities. If remembered correctly, Link recalled Osmivanna telling him that Link's own eyes reminded Mutoh of his daughters. In what way, he wasn't sure, as while both shades of blue, hers was evidently far darker. Her skin, in contrast to her hair and eyes, was a rather subdued peach, as well as her frame slender, though at the moment, noticeable bumps of gooseflesh were rising. The reaction she got almost every time she handled the cuckoos. Her skin, in contrast to her hair and eyes, was a rather subdued peach, as well as her frame slender, though at the moment, noticeable bumps of gooseflesh were rising. The reaction she got almost every time she handled the cuckoos. A white undershirt with puffy, short sleeves with pink ribbons tied above the frilly ends where the arm holes began, it being overlaid by a brown berdice that came down to above her hips. A navy kirtle split down the middle and allowing the skirt to be seen overlie a long, white skirt that ended at just above her ankles, it following her upper half as it. On said kirtle were flame-like patterns of a palish blue, a single, stylized line going around underneath it. On her feet were a pair of simple, brown shoes of leather, fitting on like a pair of slippers with a middle piece in the middle of the topline, coming to a strap that fed through a small opening underneath and linked to the other side, keeping said shoe on.

The keeper and as luck would have it, only individual allergic to the cuckoos she cared for, Anju, the carpenter's daughter.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you..." the woman said, obviously somewhat out of breath. "But you HAVE seen my dad yes, right?" Link nodded in reply, she in turn releasing a long, relieved sigh. "Oh, that's good. He's still here then..." she paused. "Though, he'd be coming through here with his guys and I'd see him then...stupid Anju." she berated herself aloud, then realizing she had just done so in front of an observing party. "Ah, sorry. Don't mind me." even with her little blunder being brushed off, she had come to the young man for a reason. "Of course, not that you'd probably know, I'm just wondering...does he still plan to go out there?"

Plan to go out? Go out where? Link was more than a little confused, echoing this with a slight tilt of his head and a raised brow. Sure, Mutoh was usually a busy man, yet he had no knowledge of him going anywhere. Though this silence, while expected from the young man, Anju too one of the few that had known him for some time beyond simple passing glances and talk of how 'he always keeps his mouth shut', this was interpreted as a confirmation by the older woman.

"I...I should've known." she sighed, as if having been defeated before she could even begin to put up any sort of struggle, let alone protest. "I mean, yes. It's his job, and it's mainly because of that Grog and me get fed, but still...why does he have to go there? There's been a shortage of lumber coming in, yes, but still...why can't the Mayor just postpone construction on that bridge?" she then realized she was speaking aloud again, and not to mention, probably keeping Link from finishing his errands. "Oh, I'm sorry! I don't mean to keep you! Your old man's probably is going to give you an earful if you're tardy. Course, I don't know if you're even set to be back at a certain time...anyway, thank you!"

She then flounced off, back to the pen behind her home, Grog having not moved a single muscle (assuming his hadn't wasted away from how thin he was) since she had left. The yellow trousers similar to what his father had worn were only held onto his lower half by a tightly fastened belt, his shoes also barely able to keep from slipping off his ankles. And unlike Anju's hair, vibrant red, his was a dulled, dirtied brown, at least what little of it he had. Aside from the spikes that lined his head in mohawk, the almost impossibly skinny man would almost be considered as bald as his own father. As Link began his journey once again, Grog turned his head towards the young man, dark, sunken eyes watching him go by, his piercing gaze was not exactly the easiest thing to take. In fact, it didn't take long for it to become too much, resulting in Link suddenly going into a sprint (or as much of one he could manage considering what he was carrying) until Mutoh's home and most importantly, the cuckoo pen, were behind him.

While there was a twinge of guilt that resonated through him, ultimately, Link didn't know of what else he could've done. Every single time he was out and just happened to pass by the carpenter's home, whenever Grog was out, his gaze never failed to fall onto him, even when he was a far smaller and far more easily frightened child. Who was he kidding; he was STILL that frightened child whenever he looked at him, even now! He couldn't help it, the man just looked so off-putting and creepy! How he and Anju were somehow related, Link was completely unaware.

'Shame on you, boy.' the young man heard Osmivanna's lecturing voice sound in his head, he obviously not present and still back at the shop, yet he remembered when he had expressed his less than favorable opinion on Grog when he was but a child. Even if he himself didn't exactly speak favorably of him either. Still, he remembered well what he said. 'Yeah, he's not the most pleasant to look at, and probably even less pleasant to talk with. Only thing he likes are those annoying birds. But he means no harm and he's not the least bit interested in hurting you none. So the least you could do is acknowledge him when we're passing by.'

Well...maybe, but he did just pass him by and acknowledge him, so there. He did what he was supposed to do. Besides, what he'd be hearing from the old blacksmith would be a lecture about the value of time fullness and punctuality, praise from Mutoh himself notwithstanding.

Link remembered well when he was dragged along on Osmivanna's deliveries, before his back had begun to give him trouble, almost always coming through here to either go to Mutoh's place if he wasn't at the shop or outside of the town's borders. Whilst not as large and especially not as crowded as the plaza currently was (of which, Link saw as benefits more than anything), the northern portion of Harkinian Town bore far more of a domestic, civilized air to it than the outskirts of where he lived, having lost much of its original forestry in place of homes and a couple of small, local business' that couldn't find a place in the plaza itself to rent out and set up shop. The only trees that remained were either potted shrubbery and were never allowed to grow past a certain, manageable size, and open windows kept any flowers around potted and usually stationed. The path below him was even laid out in dulled out, yet still mostly white, brick tiles that began at the plaza and went on past the entrance overhead, until just a few feet after, the tiles that had been so neatly placed and organized came to a halt, the bare dirt beneath allowed to show its face again.

Link was somewhat neutral to this particular area of the town. It wasn't what was, oddly enough to his understanding, considered the 'sticks', the surrounding homes and in turn, people being a bit more than he personally cared for, especially as he'd be sure he'd be asked to 'say hello' or talk in general. Yet it was a far lesser evil than the plaza was on days like today, not to say that either was particularly 'evil' at all. In fact, Link didn't entirely understand that expression...and yet here he was using it.

He shook off wondering about such a useless thing. 'Get your head together, boy.' he heard the old man order in his mind. 'You're not done yet.' Indeed, he wasn't, yet that far from bothered him. After all, now that he had braved that dreaded market, he was going to be rewarded with a visit to his favorite place in all of Hyrule.

* * *

As the brick path came to a halt, Link stepped forth onto the now present, plain Earth, the sole of his leather shoe crunching some grass that had been part of its own, small patch separated from the rest of the large, expansive field before him. Though he would only travel through a tiny, miniscule portion of it, that in itself being laid out for him as his destination was more than visible from where he was standing, Link always adored simple just coming out here and being able to simply wander. Wander and explore in these vast, free, tranquil plains of fertile, green grass.

Hyrule Field.

The green land bore no extreme elevations or deviations from the natural flatness of the midlands, the only higher formations and mountains located far off to the west. There were some higher, rocky areas that bordered around the southern sector of Harkinian Town, where the climb over was, while possible, still a task that required a good amount of effort to accomplish. Yet for the most part, there were no peaks that extended past a fantastically great height, that only situated for the western portion of Hyrule Field, the pinnacle of those mountains being that of the aptly named Death Mountain, of which Link could see even from this distance miles and miles away. Even if it was not much more than a towering, imposing, yet blurry sight in Link's blue eyes, he could more than see the red, aged rock that constructed its very foundation.

The distance between him and the mountain did little to ease the tension he experienced whenever he took notice of it, let alone ignite any sort of desire or inclination to want to go and see it up close. And especially to try and traverse its peaks. It also didn't help that the native inhabitants of the mountain and the surrounding, smaller formations weren't exactly known to be the most hospitable. Beings of solid rock, he had once heard. Of solid rock and just as solid muscle, supposedly birthed from the very mountain itself from a time no longer remembered. Precious stones, works that took decades, maybe centuries to perfect and craft from simple dirt to hardened rocks that glistened and reflected the sun were said to rest in the deepest recesses of the mountains, also rumored to be a housing place for monsters. Yet those mountains were guarded and protected by the beings of rock with nothing short of the perfect means to do so. Some said that they didn't just merely drive one from their claimed land, they would be willing to outright kill and toss the broken and shattered body in some dark cavern to rot and possibly feed the beasts that maybe dwelt further down in the deeper places of the monumental, natural work of both awe and terror.

Though these tales mainly came from what he had managed to distinguish from the buzzing, near unbearable and collective droning from the market, the stands selling these supposed stones that were probably more likely than not, fake (at least according to his guardian), telling of how they had to brave the various dangers associated with Death Mountain in order to obtain the stones and/or metals before them. Of course, a particular symbol etched onto some of them, one that bore the shape of a diamond with three split ends going upward, Link couldn't help but compare those to the one that was tattooed onto Osmivanna's shoulder. Curious as he was about it though, it was unlikely that he'd be getting an answer, at least from the old man, anyway. Besides, as he liked to say, 'daydreaming don't get work done any faster', and he was already dawdling on his way to where he was supposed to go.

His destination was a good walk from the town, yet it was more than doable, the old man's voice once again invading Link's mind of how what he was doing was not even a quarter of the distance he had to travel when he was his age. However much of this, like those stories relating to the supposed dangers of Death Mountain (granted, it was certainly not called that out of anything positive) were probably either greatly exaggerated or simply not true. Then again, as much as he did boast, the blacksmith always had the means to back it up. Ugh, look at him now! He was getting sidetracked AGAIN!

Looking ahead, Link was pleased to find that while on that train of thought, he had gained a good amount of traction and was just nearly there, the border of rock and overhead entryway no more than a few yards away. Yet before he began again, he looked around, particularly near the borders of the place of interest ahead. Usually they migrated around the most west wall...

Wait, there it was. A neigh.

And another, and another, and...oh, would he actually get to...yes! Yes, he would! Not just a few yards away from him, there they were!

Whilst Link was always willing and ready to go to his next destination whenever he had the opportunity, he especially loved it when the rare chance came in which he got the opportunity to come during the summer months. Mainly because that was when 'they' would arrive. Feeding off of the overgrown grass and other various plants that they could find, yanking it up with their teeth from the Earth, roots and all, and in turn, devouring it with said teeth grinding in a sideways motion, all the while being completely unaware of Link's presence a short distance away.

Outside of the borders, a small, yet still more than welcome herd of wild horses nestled to feed. Where they traveled through the rest of the seasons, he wasn't sure, yet every year, without fail, they always came to the large field, especially near the rock wall. Whether it was due to the large shade it provided as the sun began to set or simply the close proximity they had to other horses such as themselves, the blonde teen held no true reason or explanation. Nevertheless, every year they came, and every year, Link looked forward to seeing them. Varying from a range of colors, from tan (of which he learnt was referred to as 'dun') to the darkest black akin to the night sky, there were even some that were the complete antithesis in bearing a coat of solid, pure white. Rather fortunate they didn't come in the winter, lest Link miss those ones in plain sight.

Of course being that he so entranced and caught up in observing these wild, feral transversers of land and hill, it took Link a good while to even come to realize that, ironically yet also startlingly enough, that he was the subject of interest for one amongst the small crowd gorging themselves on the abundant flora surrounding them.

As the yellowish horse in front of it (palamino, he believed it was called, though he simply didn't know what was wrong with just calling it yellow) moved to the side, the young man's observer was revealed for him to fully view, dark, indigo eyes meeting his far lightly colored blue. Whether it was a stallion or a mare (he knowing for sure those terms), he knew not, yet what was more than aware of was that it was definitely the most striking member of the herd. Instead of a black, white, or shade of brown (with needlessly assigned names), this particular horse bore a coat of deep red, the only one amongst its fellow equine brethren, the white stripe that went down to its darkly colored nose as well as its mane of ivory making Link wonder how on Earth he managed to miss such poignant details. White cuffs of longer hair (that was the strangest of all to him, they actually being called 'feathered' when last time he was aware, horses bore no relation to birds) stationed above darkened hooves swished slightly as it began to, to both Link's terror and elation, move closer in his direction.

Truly, though he had wished and hoped to get a sight of them, Link was far from expecting such an opportunity such as this to come to him, let alone able to prepare for it, as with the horse coming closer and closer, even with it being a still measurable distance away, Link already found himself nervously backing away. Though it was knowledge he held a grasp on already, the animals were larger the closer they got, and the fact that these were not like the ones owned by the residents of the place he was going to see made the situation all the more tense and fascinating. The fact that it was interested in him, genuinely interested, perhaps to the same level as he was interested in them...that very sentiment was all Link needed to allow his hand to come up and reach out to the still approaching horse, ready for it to return his touch with its own.

But just as it was about to reach him, its ears twitched and its head turned in the other direction. The other horses followed suit in this action, and just as quickly as it had been coming towards him, it, along with the rest of the herd, began to run off.

All of the elation and fright that had been mixed into a collective concoction and pumping throughout his entire system all came crashing down as Link's equine observer along with its brethren scampered away. Absolute disappointment was all he felt; now mentally kicking himself for not going up and touching the horse himself, as potentially dangerous as it was. Yet with how it was looking so intently at him, surely it didn't have any intention to do so. Surely, he thought. Yet whether his convictions about its intentions were due to a stronger pull from childish curiosity and elation than actual fact, it mattered not now. Besides, to his suddenly realized horror, he had wasted all that time staring at the wild herd and its particular member that he didn't even realize how low the sun had gotten! Oh, the old man was going to let him have it this time! He knew it!

With that realization, Link, despite the weight on his back from the large item still with him in the sack (poking out no less), made a mad dash for the gate of the establishment before him, both cursing himself for not just simply observing the horses already present there, as well as not getting there on time! With a few more bountiful leaps (at least they were with how hard he was pushing himself), the young man finally made it to his destination.

Lon Lon Ranch.

He hated being so late, after looking forward to coming here too. Still, he wasn't here to lollygag, he had done enough of that already. The sight of a cream colored, ranch-style home with a tiled roof of brown passed him by, wondering if perhaps Osmivanna's client was already inside, yet upon hearing the collective neighing and chorus of moos not too far ahead, as well as the voice of a young man yelling "Whoop!" and "Easy, boy!" Link headed in that direction, passing the stable that held the animals that were now released, and to confirm this theory, there they were in the open pasture.

The land, compared to the field it resided in, was rather minuscule by comparison, yet from the cows lazing away on the fertile grass to the small number of cuckoos that wandered around, pecking and bobbing their heads, and rather humorously, displaying their 'big head little body' mentality by pecking at and spooking some of the cows that had occupied a shaded area they wanted to have for themselves, it was more than adequate for them. It certainly must've been, considering that the ranch's pride and joy came from those very bovines, providing most, if not nearly all of the income for the ranch.

It was so sublime and dare he say, near perfect. Especially compared to the nerve-wracking market days and to a degree, the entirety of Harkinian Town in general. The two residents here knew him well already, as well as his little penchant for silence, and not once had any of the animals here tried to get something out from him even when he made it clear that such a thing wasn't as easy as it was for them. And whilst it would probably be asking for too much, especially given that he was surely more than a little late, if there WAS a bottle of the savory, nutritious product available, Link certainly wouldn't mind taking it off their hands-

"Ah, THERE you are!" Link didn't even have time to turn around, the hot air of the horse on the back of his neck already alerting him that his presence had been noticed, perhaps even long before the horse even reached him as the rider atop of it had just addressed him. Turning around, the sight of a dun colored stallion staring down at him met his eyes, along with the young, able bodied man not much older than he atop of it also staring down, chocolate brown eyes meeting his blue.

With skin that matched Link's own, perhaps even a shade or two darker, a full head of dark brown, nearly completely black hair was atop of the rider's head, the bangs feathered and seeming to swish off to the left, it also beginning to display the same at the neckline, only with it fanning outward. A yellowish-white undershirt with a pronounced collar that stood upright around his neck was under a Tawny brown, split-side tunic with a belt tightened around the waist and a pair of thin suspenders on his shoulders, of which were deep brown leather. Atop of all of this, however, lay a golden neck tie that loosely hung, the tied portion keeping it around him decorated with an ornament displaying the carving of some sort of monster with a large mouth and teeth, yet rather shaggy eyebrows and cartoonish looking eyes along with small horns. On his legs were covered to just below the knees with yam colored trousers that had blue, angular markings alongside the cuffs, his ensemble completed with simple, short socks and brown leather boots.

Link greeted the young rider with a small smile, he in turn dismounting the stallion and returning the subdued gesture with a far more hearty, exaggerated grin of white teeth. "Take it that you saw the little batch of visitors we've been getting outside?"

The blonde immediately nodded, remembering well that one particular horse that had actually approached him before it trampled off. The rider grinned. "Yeah. They're beautiful, aren't they?" Link too agreed instantaneously with this, his own lips curling into a larger smile as images of that chestnut colored horse invaded his mind. "After all, what other reason would you have to risk your Gramps giving you an earful for being late?"

It took him a moment for him to realize that was a jab at him, Link realizing too late that he actually nodded in agreement to that. Of course, it was quickly countered by a glare that, to his dismay, didn't affect the darker haired teen in the slightest. Link ultimately eased his features as well, rubbing the back of his head, as the only look he could give at that moment was a sheepish grin. There was no use in trying to keep up the angry act, that boy could always read him like a book. The ability to do so eluded him, yet perhaps that was one of the reasons that he was so comfortable with him, even if the main reasoning he always loved coming here was due to the animals. Especially the horses.

"Ey, Terran! Get inside! Can't make lunch by myself, so-" a booming voice called out, the door of the long home that Link had passed thrust open and revealing a similarly looking, yet far older and stouter man with a burly, black mustache underneath a large, bulbous nose.

He bore the same, friendly; brown eyes as his the boy beside Link atop of the horse, yet even though he shared the same dark hair, it was evident that he had quite a receding hairline. The same colored wrap was tied around his shoulders, the emblem of the monster also present; Link assuming that it was just some sort of establishment thing (honestly, he didn't know). A worn, red shirt that had torn, ripped sleeves that had definitely seen better days, along with the blue green trousers the stout man wore, yet surprisingly enough, the leather boots and gloves still seemed to be in good shape.

"Ah, hey there, Link!" the man greeted. "Here for delivery, I take it?"

The blonde nodded, gesturing to the sack on his back, particularly towards the scythe poking out of the top. Though he seemed more than pleased with this, he turned his attention to the boy still atop of the dun stallion, thick brows narrowing. "Terran, whatcha' think you're doing?! Get up off that horse and help the poor thing out!" while that couldn't exactly be done word for word, the young man having to go and take the stallion back out to the paddock, he wasted no time in obeying the older man. "By the way, how long has it been since you had some fresh milk?" he then asked Link, the blonde not even getting a chance to answer before it was decided for him, yet from the older man's reaction, it was clear that he was more than willing to take what was being offered. "Well, guess what? You're in luck, because the girls gave us a fresh, new batch today! Come on, you get to be the taste tester!"

**Inside the House**

As the thick, creamy liquid eased its way down his throat and cooled down his heated body, Link found himself beginning to think that maybe the risk of Osmivanna scolding him was worth it if he was getting free milk. Not just that, only the best of milk in all of Hyrule!

The interior of the home was nothing extravagant or fancy, the dining room mainly the hub of the first floor, both Terran and his father's rooms, along with a single guest room located at the top of the short stairway to the right, the steps in themselves not exactly wide either. The table was a simple, square shaped piece of work, the chairs fashioned in a similar way, as well as the counters and shelves along the walls in the small kitchen. The main source of color in the room was the large rug that lay underneath the table and three chairs (Link wondered why three as there were only the two lived here), made up of several, colored yarn. If it weren't for the weight of the table and chairs, it would've made an excellent blanket for the colder seasons, Link thought.

Setting down the bottle that was in his hand, Link licked his lips to remove any trace amounts of the creamy substance from his mouth. "Guzzled down half of that thing already?" the older man questioned him, chuckling at the younger boy's obvious enjoyment of the milk. "Been feeding the cows some alfalfa hay mixed in with the ordinary kind we make from grass. Heard that it's good for them, so I just wanted a second opinion. Take it that was some of the best advice I've gotten, huh?"

Link had no protests to that, immediately responding with a very eager and resounding nod.

"Heh, if there's anyone I can trust when it comes to our milk, it's you." Terran's father chuckled, looking over to the large sack that was set next to the table, Link more than eager to be relieved (even if just temporarily) from that large amount of weight he had to carry around. Reaching into the sack, the older ranch owner flipped open the flap and pulled the scythe from the sack. The tool not incredibly large, only reaching up to his thigh if he stood it up on the wooden pole that served as its handle, yet the blade was what he focused his attention on. "Ah, good as new. Course your old man would've done no less than near perfect, huh?"

"Especially after the fuss he made after he found out you were the one that had gone and broken it." Terran stated, having entered the abode and closed the door.

"Hey, it's not like something like that's a rare occurrence, boy." his father retorted. "Could happen to anyone."

Amidst the small bit of banter that went on between the two, Link surveyed the small space...it was bad form, truly, it was, yet if he had a choice, he'd want nothing more than for he and Osmivanna to live here. How they would do it, let alone where the old man would put all of his supplies and the essentials needed for his trade weren't exactly things he had planned out, yet he was sure that they could figure it out somehow. It wasn't just because the idea appealed to him so much that it overrode logic, nope, not at all, at least Link told himself that. And it wasn't as if he would want to kick Terran and his father off of the land either, far from it. As much as he adored them, Link suspected that he was probably the last person that should be handling the animals here, much less the cuckoos. Even since his youth, he and the poultry, their relationship was...less than desirable. But here, even if it was just two people, they were two of the few people that were important parts of Link's life. There was no need for him to have to keep to himself or try to make himself clear or understood, much less open his mouth at the request of 'why don't you speak up?'.

No one asked such a thing from him here. Especially the animals...

KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Hm?" Terran's father raised one brow in confusion, going over to the door and upon opening it, revealed a bald man with a familiar white beard and blue vest.

"Hey there, Tierney!" Mutoh greeted, Terran's father taking a moment or two to realize why the carpenter was here. "Uh, didn't come at a bad time, did I?"

"Hm? Wha-oh! Oh no! No, not at all!" Tierney said, immediately shaking Mutoh's hand. "In fact, I was just expecting you!" it was clearly a rouse, yet the ranch owner stepped outside. "In fact, Terran was giving him a bit of a test run before you arrived! He's right over here..." the rest of the conversation was lost as the door steadily shut behind them, Link and the aforementioned Terran now left alone in the house.

"I'd offer to let you stay for lunch," Terran began, gesturing towards the vegetables yet to be cut on the counter, its surface already riddled with markings and scratches. "But I'd imagine that your Gramps would give you more than an earful even if you're just a few minutes late." while Link shook his head, pondering for a moment on how to communicate that even with the time he surely wasted, he still had a good bit of time to return. There was the option to try and actually tell him this, yet thankfully, the darker haired youth seemed to read the blonde's face well enough to know that wasn't the case. "Still, though...here." he then grabbed one of the bottles of milk stationed on the table. "Don't worry, we've got FAR more than this, and that scythe you brought over will allow us to cut even more alfalfa for them, so if anything, you deserve it."

Was he really hearing this? He could actually have ANOTHER bottle of Lon Lon Milk? It didn't take long for Link to question it, swiping the glass from Terran's hand, and as tempting as it was to down the entire thing down in just a few gulps as he had done with the test bottle Tierney gave him, he managed to force himself to keep it away from his lips. His fingers fidgeted with the cork on top, yet still, he didn't open it, opening the large sack lying against the table's leg and placing it inside. Hoisting the large sack back onto himself, Link found himself opening his mouth, though no words came out, even as his tongue moved about to create them.

Terran caught on and simply shook his head, motioning for Link to stop trying to force himself. "You're welcome, I know."

The blonde apprentice blacksmith was quite thankful in more ways than one. Though, before Link could depart, the door of the house opened yet again, Tierney and Mutoh standing in the doorway, the bald carpenter seemingly rather relieved to see Link. "Ah, good! You're here!" he told the younger man. "Your old man told me you've got a delivery for the folks living near you guys." he nodded, taking out the small grinder from his pocket, the object small enough to fit. "Well, you're in luck! Me and the boys here are loaded up and ready to head out there! Aren't we, fellas?"

He couldn't exactly see it, yet looking out from over Mutoh's shoulder, there was clearly a loaded wagon with all four of his fellow workers on it, each of them noticing and giving Link a friendly set of waves. "Hey, Boss! The horse here's getting a little antsy!" As if to further drive this point in, the stallion gave a loud bray, its hooves scraping at the ground.

"Be a second!" he called back, turning his attention back to Link. "I met your old man in town when we were setting out, and he said that they went out to Castle Town early that morning, so only person home is their daughter. And even then, she's probably out there in the woods right now." though this information was important to let him know, there was more than one reason Mutoh had in telling Link this at the moment. "Why she'd even go in there, I don't know. Let alone by herself. But..." Link couldn't believe it at first, but if he didn't know any better, it looked as if Mutoh, of all people, held a good degree of nervousness at even having to go there either. "Look, I just think you should catch a ride with us. Just to save you the walking distance. Besides, it's still a good few miles away, even from here."

The other carpenters also noticed this strange apprehension from their supposedly fearless leader, about to comment on it or, even if it would've been perceived as an attack on his pride, question whether or not he was all right. However, no one, not even Terran or Tierney said a word to witnessing this unusual behavior, and Link, who usually had little to say, as it was, seemed to have allowed Mutoh silent permission to make the decision for him.

"You know, it's past noon already, and your Gramps hates you lollygagging, so hop aboard, son!" the elderly, yet still strong and able man commanded. "You're riding with us!"

Link, even as he sat in the back of the well-sized cart, he wasn't sure as to why the old man was being so insistent. It wasn't as if there was much room to spare anything, he quite literally squished in between Doyle and Mack while Bremor and Brent were in the front, keeping watch over the sacks containing their food and supplies. Mutoh himself was at the very front, sitting and at the reins, urging the stallion to move forward and take them to their destination. And as the cart pulled out of Lon Lon Ranch, Terran giving the blonde boy a wave goodbye, it made his desire to go back there all the more prevalent. Yet whether he liked it or not, duty called, and it was just one thing that needed to be done. One delivery to make, and then he'd be free to go back, yet from Mutoh's uncharacteristic anxiousness, dare he say, fear relating to where both of them had to go, it made him, albeit unintentionally, ponder that perhaps this task wouldn't be so simple.

Perhaps, even worse, unsafe.


	2. Looming Dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entering the Lost Woods, Link finishes up with his deliveries for the day, riding back to town and coming across a pair of familiar faces. Though from afar, on Hyrule's coast, a lone stranger comes from the ocean for reasons unknown, and hidden away, in the depths of an old, abandoned chamber, a sacrifice is to be made...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd chapter here! Experimenting with a new technique in writing as I go and not doing some extensive re-editing. Writing not as pretty, but it gets done faster, so let me know if you prefer this wording over the other.

**Chapter 2: Looming Dread**

**Zelda © of Nintendo**

The smoothness of the small object contrasted with the semi-thick callused hands that played with it, moving it in between fingers and then passing it to the other hand.

'Don't you go losing that, boy.' the blonde youth heard Osmivanna scold in his mind, the movements of his fingers slowing down to a far slower pace, soon going from passing it between digits to feeling against it in a clasped fist.

True, having the grinder out of his pocket, let alone the sack, was probably far from the best idea. Still, Link found it to be the only thing he could do to better pass the time, as well as keep some of his attention from the current conversation going on.

"Boss," Mack, after much hesitation, began. "Do we REALLY have to go there?"

Mutoh, given that the horse was keeping its eyes ahead, allowed himself a moment to turn back and look at the full-headed man. "The lumber for that bridge isn't going to just come to us. And besides, Mayor Kravindish's isn't too keen on extending deadlines." the latter portion of this statement was riddled with an evident sense of annoyance. "Pompous, big nosed, prissy little..." the string of insults towards Harkinian Town's official went on and on, soon becoming lost in a series of grumbles.

Mack was about to continue, yet ultimately got the idea that it would be useless (as it usually was) to try and argue with him. This attitude, however, didn't seem to translate onto his other carpenters, Doyle taking up where he left off. "Well, in all fairness, Boss, you do know what people in town have been saying about this place, right?"

"Course I know." Mutoh scoffed. "And I can tell you right now that each and every thing they say about those woods is a bunch of bull."

Link nearly found the grinder jostled out of his hands as suddenly found a pair of hands covering his pointed ears, Doyle having been the one to do so. "Uh, Boss, in case you forgot, we've got an impressionable little one here."

"Impressionable he may be, but he's hopefully smarter than you and doesn't believe in ridiculous stuff like that! Don't you, Link?" fearing the possible risk of Mutoh's obvious frustration being misdirected onto him, the young man nodded furiously, forgetting for a moment that Doyle was being put on spot. Thankfully, at least he assumed from the flat-topped man's expression, there was no offense taken. In fact, his looks seemed to express that had he been in his position, he'd probably do the same thing. "Either way, there's nothing we can do about it." Mutoh continued, his tone becoming a degree less harsh, apologetic even, if just to a small extent. "The wood isn't just going to come to us, and any darned lumberjack I've tried to get ahold of say that they won't step foot where we're going."

Link didn't hold much, if any knowledge as to what Mutoh was talking about, yet from the sound of it along with the collective (albeit begrudging) acceptance from his workers, their traveling to their destination was one that wouldn't have to happen under certain circumstances. Somewhat curious, yes, yet given how he was far more enveloped in Osmivanna's trade and held little knowledge about carpentry outside of it being the reason their own home was so sturdy, Link went back to the repetitive motions of passing the grinder from hand to hand. It seemed to have been accepted that all of them were having to go to the forest, whether they liked it or not, the journey growing silent as the cart and horse continued forward.

Whether or not it was due to the repetitive clopping of its hooves against the earth or simply the fact that the encounter was still very fresh in his mind, Link didn't know, yet his thoughts turned to the single member of the herd that dared approach him. And while it and the rest of its equine brethren had gone off to who knew where, perhaps, if he was lucky enough…

Adjusting his position amongst the large and heavy bags of tools, utensils, and food, Link's blue eyes searched the expansive field surrounding them, particularly for a flash of reddish brown (or more appropriately, chestnut). While it probably wasn't wise to allow his hopes to soar too high, yet still, he was so close to actually touching, genuinely touching one of these creatures. Not just seeing from a distance, it wanted to approach him on its own volition. Not to say that getting a close experience with one of the horses at Lon Lon Ranch wasn't anything to dismiss, quite the contrary, he looking forward to seeing them any time he had the opportunity to go. Yet when it came to them, the wild ones that came around this time every year...the fact that one, one that he noticed was uniquely colored and the only one in the entire herd, had decided to try and go to him simply because it wished to filled him with nothing short of awe and to a degree, a bit of pride.

And he, in turn, probably unable to account for the potential danger a wild horse presented, would do the same for it with a light rub on its darkly colored nose.

This, along with several other fanciful, dare he say, outlandish things (at least according to Osmivanna and anyone else he'd share these fantasies with, if he could) he wished to do if the horse got the chance to get that far ran through his mind. His favorite in particular was one in which he was atop of the lovely equine and it carrying him through these very lands with its powerful legs that, in that moment of mad speed, seemed near impossible to stop.

Idyllic, yes. Unrealistic, oh most definitely. Even with the horses at the ranch, Terran had to warn him a good few times to be careful with them, of how easy they were to scare, or in his words, 'spook'. Even so, Link found he simply couldn't help it, nor scrounge up the desire to care that it'd probably never happen. It'd never happen, he and that horse coming into contact with each other and riding off into the wild...still, it was something that brought him some sense of joy.

It went on like that for some time, the cart inching closer and closer to their destination and Link completely lost in his own mind, nothing existing aside from himself and the chestnut colored horse.

"So...what DO they say about these woods?"

At least, it went on like that until a single voice broke the collective silence, Link once again being alerted that he wasn't out in the field atop of the horse, but here in the back of the cart.

"Eh, mainly just garbage." Bremor told Brent, who had asked. "Something about them supposedly being cursed."

Brent's reply echoed what Link was thinking. "Cursed?"

"Yeah, cursed." Doyle insisted, stepping into the now budding conversation, much to Link's silent dismay. Yet still, he found himself struggling to resist his curiosity in listening in, not that he could retreat anywhere to escape it. "They say that the forest is home to a monster."

Whatever portion of Link that was attempting to diverge his attention away was now rendered completely useless, the very mention of the word forcibly locking his focus in place, whether he liked it or not.

"Monster?" Mack questioned, having taken to making sure some of the sacks didn't topple over each other, only to have one full of pots and pans fall atop of his full afro, promptly squashing it.

Seemingly pleased that he now had a receptive audience, Doyle adjusted his vest and his voice transformed to that of a storyteller or bard, weaving some sort of tale for the four (five technically, yet the Boss made his opinion on the woods known already) essentially trapped with him. "Yes, an actual monster! he declared, raising up his arms as if to create the effect that it was supposedly something horribly fearsome. "It's said to have come into being not long after the Goddesses created the world, set in the midst of a lone, barren patch by Farore Herself-"

"Oh yeah, that's REAL scary, Doyle." Bremor suddenly stated. "Something that supposedly Farore, patron of courage and protector of man, planted how many hundreds, maybe thousands, or even millions of years ago, is supposed to be something that's a big bad monster-"

"Do you mind?!" Doyle shouted, obviously offended at the interruption. "I'm NOT done!" there was silence for a moment, he taking this opportunity before Bremor or someone else decided to intrude with some sort of snarky comment. "As I was saying, yes, it's rumored-"

"By sources that are probably not that trustworthy."

"It's rumored to have been planted by Farore long ago, and to spread greenery and foliage throughout the land by spreading life throughout the land." even with the beginning of something that sounded like another rebuttal, Doyle continued on. "But as man continued to expand and grow, when our ancestors descended from the Heavens, they began taking from the forest to build and make settlements for themselves, all that we see now, from the castle to the smaller villages scattered around, and even our own town owes even the smallest bit of debt to that forest." if it wasn't for Brent moving it out of the way, he would've stepped right on one of their sacks of food.

Despite the irritation rising within the circle of carpenters at Doyle's dramatics, Link was now completely entrenched in what he was saying, and despite himself, he found his tongue beginning to move, trying to formulate the right words to urge the magenta trousered man to continue. Yet as moments began to drag on, he found that, thankfully, as he found himself running into more and more difficulty in getting what he wanted out of his mouth, someone had done it for him.

"So, what then?" Mack questioned, having finally gotten his afro back to the way it had been. "It doesn't sound that bad. Why is this thing, whatever it is, considered a monster?" even better, it was the very thing that Link was wondering as well!

"Well," Doyle continued. "Suddenly, the creature began to detest the presence of those that wished to claim part of its forest. Those that came to cut and take from its brethren. It began to hate and loathe those that wished to steal away what it felt truly belonged to it." even if he was reveling in the fact that he was being so intensively listened to, Doyle found himself beginning to grow nervous, seeing as how they were drawing nearer and nearer to these 'cursed woods'. Still, the show must go on, even if he was managing to scare himself. "So, using its powerful hold over the area, it began to transform and manipulate the very structure and fabric of the forest itself!" he proclaimed, raising his arms to emphasize his point, this transitioning into him crossing them in a strange, twisted (yet still doable) way. "Paths that had been laid out by former inhabitants and workers became concealed and hidden away by twisting, winding roots that grew so quickly, even by the time you cut through them all, more would simply scuttle along the ground to begin another layer once again!"

Bremor couldn't believe that the others were so enamored by the foppish man's story! Heck, he couldn't believe that the Boss himself didn't put a stop to it with how stupid and ridiculous it was getting! None of them surely believed any of this nonsense, did they?

Yet regardless of either his or Mutoh's personal sentiments, there seemed to be no stopping it now. "Trees would come together, branches linking and twisting around each other, the thick tops made of thousands of leaves creating a veil overhead that blocked out the sun, covering the entire forest in a perpetual night! Every element that made up the woods, whether it be the trees, the grass, the plants, even the animals that made their dwelling there would, in some way, go against any and all that dared try to transverse and take even just the smallest amount from where the creature considered itself master!"

No one said a word, Doyle unraveling his limbs and voice growing uncharacteristically quiet. "And those poor souls were sent wandering those darkened paths...even when their bodies gave out and the elements had their way with them, their souls still wander...forever trapped in those woods, still seeking the way out."

It didn't take long for Link to realize he had made a huge mistake in listening to Doyle's tale, the berating, scolding voice of Osmivanna doing nothing to soothe his rattled nerves. This seemed to be the same for at least half of the passengers in the cart, he himself included. Mack was rendered to a shaking mess, grabbing a sack for some sort of comfort while Brent had outright built himself something of a makeshift 'fortress' of the sacks around himself, two eyes peeking out from the piled up bags. While there was a twinge of guilt in seeing his fellow carpenters like this, yet then again, he thought as he buffed his nails up against his bare chest, this highlighted his charisma and talent for capturing the attention of an unsuspecting crowd.

Give or take a few hagglers. Speaking of which, "You are so full of it." here was one now. Doyle's attention shifted to the still skeptical and now slightly humored Bremor, of whom had been against the very indulging of such a ridiculous tale to begin with. "Boss, you're hearing this, right?"

Mutoh didn't answer, yet internally, he was rolling his eyes. Even if they all got on his nerves on occasion (or perhaps all the time if he had to be honest), at least he could count on Bremor to hold at least some sort of sense.

"And here I recall that YOU were the one that said that these woods were cursed in the first place!" Doyle argued.

"If you were listening, I said that folks have been saying they're cursed! And I also recall saying that all of it was garbage!" Bremor argued back, though it seemed that his stance wasn't a very popular one, his other fellow carpenters now spooked by the old and far from factual tale (at least in his mind, it was just that).

"So...you don't think they are?" Mack squeaked, finally gaining the courage to speak up.

"No, of course not!" Bremor huffed. "Granted, they might be a little strange and have a good number of weird stories about them, but that doesn't mean-"

"Well, if we're going to take those into account," Brent interjected. "Maybe not all of it is just a number of weird stories. After all, a lot of old tales are based around things that actually happened-"

"Yeah, but that's far from solid proof!"

It didn't take long for the simple disagreement to evolve into a full blown shouting match between Doyle and Bremor, Mack and Brent not exactly participating, yet their input wasn't exactly defusing their more vocal partners either. Frankly, while Link far from cared for the noise, this was at least somewhat better than having to hear about the supposedly 'hidden' creature that nested deep within and held the entire collection of trees and other plants under its power. While the idea in itself struck the young man as rather odd and perhaps, at least according to Osmivanna's if the old man was presently here with him, ridiculous, Link found himself unable to simply cast off the cold chill that came with the thought. He would have to go in there, they all would. All six of them, into the deep, darkened depths of those woods and through the winding, thick brush that would seem never ending and always growing more and more in density.

He was getting ahead of himself, Link told himself, the old blacksmith's aged voice scolding him in his head for believing such things. Especially from a bunch of 'prissy pansies' like the four carpenters under the far more manly Mutoh. If he was able to, he probably would've beaten each of the four men over their heads for starting such a stupid discussion, and if the old man was here, he'd probably do the work for Mutoh himself, a swift yet hard swing with his hammer. The thought of Osmivanna doing such to the bickering men brought forth some reprieve for the young man, yet still, it didn't erase the fact that their destination was drawing closer and closer.

The forest that had been at both the heart of Doyle's tale and Bremor's argument against said tale was not exactly something that was at the forefront of Link's mind in all honesty. While the western parts of Harkinian Town, where he and Osmivanna resided in, had just a tiny portion of the forest seeping in, it wasn't something that Link found to be feared or dreaded. Besides, it was clear of how far he was supposed to go by the fence that had been put in place not far behind the shop.

'No further than that, boy.' Osmivanna told him, he having once nonchalantly crawled under it to explore more when he was but six. ''No further than this fence here. Otherwise you won't be able to find your way back here.' the aged caretaker then leant in towards him, he remembered, eyes deathly serious. 'And then, the forest will turn you into one of the imps that come out at night.'

While the whole part of 'turning into an imp' was doubtful, even if Link wholeheartedly believed it at that impressionable age, the young man didn't set foot past the fence since that day. The trees, while tall and an overall pleasant sight, they were in no way arranged in such a way where they resembled anything Doyle described. Yet while he hadn't gone past it, as the years went by, Link found himself inching closer and closer to the barrier that rested in between the town's official borders and where the forest truly began. Looking on, past the fence and as far as his eye could see, the density of the trees did seem to get thicker and thicker. Perhaps, he began to ponder, if not a monster that held power over those trees or just one of many imps, something unknown lived there.

Something unknown...large maybe. Untouched by time and unaffected by whatever lay outside the collection of trees in which it called its home. Maybe...just maybe…

Though whatever wondering or speculating that could've been were immediately interrupted by the familiar, booming voice of Mutoh, he doing what he seemed to do best. "You all are a disgrace!" he shouted, completely abandoning the task of driving the horse and looking back to his squabbling workers. "Honestly, getting yourselves all worked up and antsy over something so stupid! Like a bunch of kids, you are!" while he didn't consider it pleasant to listen to, it was always impressive at how the old man commanded such authority over the four men. Either that or, like Link himself, they were simply not wishing to see what he'd be like if he was even MORE angry. "Now, we're going to go in there, drop Link off and let him do his business, and then we're going to set up camp and stay in these woods for as long as we planned to get the wood we need. Understood!?"

All four men wasted no time in furiously nodding their heads in unison, Mutoh's furrowed brow lessen somewhat, yet to them and Link, there always seemed to be a bit of anger present in the man. "Good, now that we understand each other, maybe the rest of this trip can go on in peace and quiet." the rest of this trip...Mutoh inwardly groaned. Despite his chastising of his workers for it, he didn't exactly wish to go in either. Not that he actually BELIEVED all that stuff about the 'monster' and whatever else was said about them...yet still, it certainly wasn't someplace he'd be choosing to stay in overnight.

* * *

The moment had finally come, and Link and the carpenters had reached the appropriately named, Lost Woods.

While it certainly wasn't lost from every map and geographical layout of Hyrule, the blonde could easily see someone getting lost in here. And if those stories and legends about this place just so happened to be true, then who was to say that perhaps none of them should've set foot in here?

"All right, you slackers!" either way, it sure wasn't stopping Mutoh, the wagon having been stopped in the middle of a small clearing not far from the edge, so at least their resting place wasn't too far away if they needed to go. Maybe sooner than planned, Link thought. "Start hauling those sacks out and setting up the tents!"

"What about you, Boss?" Bremor asked, having slung one containing pots and pans (from the rattling, it sounded like that) over his shoulder.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked. "I'm going to go get us some firewood for the stew tonight!" he then turned to Link. "Okay, so you good on your own?"

Frankly, Link wasn't. Yet still, surely the person he was looking for wasn't too far away. Not here. And besides, he wanted, needed to appear brave, so he nodded.

"Okay. If you're sure." Mutoh told him, beginning to go in another direction from where Link was standing, an axe over his shoulder. "I won't be going too far either, so if there's any trouble, just give me a holler."

A holler…it was meant to be comforting, yes, yet Link wondered if he would even be able to hear it over all of these trees and thick overgrowth. Clutching the grinder in his hand, he began to make his way opposite of where Mutoh had gone. Apparently, according to Osmivanna, the one who ordered this tool always went towards the western part of the forest and, at least, for his sake anyway, always stayed where the sun could still be seen shining through above.

That was good for him too. The last thing he needed was Brent's tale of the leaves blocking out the only source of light present coming true.

And at the very least, as the dead leaf carpet crunched under his feet, he knew well what she looked like, as well as what he'd probably find her in.

Koa, the girl that lived a house down from him and Osmivanna, and her family, had been the newest residents of Harkinian Town, having arrived not but a couple of years ago when Link was just turning fourteen. The house that they all lived in wasn't even a house at that point, just a shack that Osmivanna used to store tools that needed to be delivered. Link, honestly, sort of missed having that shack, as while he still had to sleep up in the loft, at least the dining table could still have enough room downstairs. Yet when Koa's family came in that beat up, worn down wagon of theirs, the old man outright gave it to them, no questions asked.

Thus, the next few days were spent dealing with the bruises Link acquired from falling off the ladder trying to haul the table and chairs up to the loft. He was sort of irritated about it at first, yet ultimately, Link knew that them living in there was better than out in the cold. It got easier to have this mindset after the bruises healed up.

It didn't take long for them to step up shop in the shack, yet even when they did, it was evident that the business that they'd garner would be far and in between. Most of the shelves were littered with strange knick-knacks and supposed charms that each held a different a specific purpose to improve one's health to one's self image by simply hanging it over one's door frame.

Osmivanna promptly told Link to not even think of wasting his rupees on such things, yet even still, he didn't seem angry with Koa's family for it. They were simply doing whatever they could to survive. From what he had gotten from talking to her father, they had traveled from a country far away in a mountainous region, where a rather fierce war had broken out apparently. The exact details of said war, he wasn't sure, yet apparently, the Kingdom was constantly having to deal with invading spies and outside forces, and to make matters worse, the captain of the royal army had seemingly sustained a rather serious wound and wasn't likely to recover. With little else he believed he could do, he took his family and made a mad dash for wherever the war hadn't reached, and kept going until that kingdom was far behind them.

Of course, it became apparent that simply selling strange little trinkets they had brought with them (most of which Koa's mother was unwilling to give up at first and fought tooth and nail to keep) was not going to cut it, so Koa's father, who simply went by the title of 'Stockwell', had begun taking items such as potions and other various pieces of equipment, such as arrows and simple little shields and setting up a small store in Castle Town. While it certainly did them far better than what they were doing previously, they were still far from the richest folks in town, let alone in all of Hyrule.

It was due to that reason, as well as the selling of potions that Koa had came to the seemingly spooked forest. According to something Osmivanna heard from her mother, apparently she discovered that there were plants in the forest that they could use to craft said potions in the first place. How she managed to come across them in this large of a place, Link had accepted he may never know, yet there was always a peculiar…element that came with the young woman going into these woods.

Link stopped. Something had moved behind him. The sound of leaves being rustled was clear to his ears. Turning around, as predicted, he saw nothing, yet there was no mistaking it. He heard something. He was sure of-

"There you are."

Despite his inclination to not really speak, Link let loose a startled gasp and whipped around to find himself locked in the eyes of a…fox mask?

"Dad told me the old man had made me a new grinder. Didn't think he'd send you all the way out here to give it to me though."

Indeed, upon the young woman's face rested a mask that resembled a fox like creature, with a bright, yellow paint and darkened, black markings on the tips of its ears, nose, and eyes that composed of two diagonal slits. It almost looked like they were closed. To apparently accompany this piece, she also bore a short cape of violet, bearing small puffs of fur that bore a resemblance to the mask itself: yellow in color, and the tips of the 'tails' having blackened tips.

"In fact," she paused, taking a moment to remove the mask from her face. "You just passed me a minute ago, and I had to stop my mushroom picking just to find you."

Link was sort of wishing that she had left the mask on. While she didn't seem angry (it was difficult to gauge how she 'felt' per say, her voice always so flat and uninterested sounding), those vibrant, mahogany eyes of hers always made her appear as if she were cross with whomever she was looking upon. The color of her irises matched well with her short, flipped out hair of darkened purple: dark in tone, yet still intense.

Upon realizing that he had missed her entirely and even had to make her stop what she was doing to go get him, Link presented an apologetic look, yet whether or not she accepted it was unknown, as her face seemed to almost always be like solid stone. Almost, as, at least to him, there had to be some times of where it got out of that state, yet it was unlikely he'd ever see them. Nevertheless, he had found her, Koa.

The voice and the outfit underneath the cape alerted Link to that, once he could truly look upon them clearly. Indeed, while they weren't necessarily 'bad' looking (Link himself not really one to talk, as he admitted he held no sense of such things), yet it was clear that either they were a few years old, or had been through some rough times. She wore a short, yet ornately patterned dress of sangria and an old, dusty colored underskirt, a pair of puffy shorts that ended above her knees of a similar color resting underneath that as well. On her shins rested leg coverings of the same sangria color, yet they ended at her ankles, a pair of simple, brown slip on's resting on her feet. Atop of all this, at her upper chest, rested a shawl of brown with red and blue markings and that had a 'v' shaped collar. On this collar, a crest of sorts rested, of green metal with three points going downward and a bright, orange stone stationed in the middle. The crest of where they had originally come from, from what Link had been told. Neither Koa, nor her mother removed it. Only Stockwell removed it when he went to open their small shop in Castle Town.

"But, you're here now." Koa spoke again, Link becoming aware she was indeed speaking again. "So it'd probably be a waste of time on your part if I didn't accept it here." She extended her hand, not bothering to explain why, yet luckily, she didn't need to.

Reaching into his pocket, Link pulled out the small, stone grinder and placed it in her palm, she in turn bringing it in for a closer inspection.

"It's smaller than the last one." She said, Link afraid for a moment that because of this, she wouldn't accept it. "But," she placed it in a brown pouch she had on her belt. "It's better than nothing. And I can't do anything with these if I don't have one, no matter the size." She gestured to the basket of freshly picked, rather strong smelling mushrooms she had.

How she could even stomach getting near them, Link didn't know. Perhaps that's why every time he did manage to see her, she almost always had the faint odor of rotting fruit and plants lingering on her.

"Ah, hey there, Link!" a voice from behind called, now both of them jumping at the sudden sound. There Mutoh stood a few feet away, axe over his shoulder and a bundle of sticks in his arm. "See you found your customer!"

"What are you doing here?" Koa suddenly asked the old carpenter.

"I'm here on assignment. Just like this young man here." Mutoh replied. "Aren't you doing the same?"

"You're camping out here, aren't you?" Koa suddenly said, stepping forward, past Link. "Whatever you need to do, you can do it elsewhere. Not here."

"Hm?" Mutoh raised a brow, yet then sighed when he realized where this was going. "Don't tell me you're going to load me down with all that about this place being cursed-"

"No. That's just stupid." Koa interrupted. "But that doesn't mean you should be here overnight."

"Then what are YOU doing here, little miss?" Mutoh questioned. Who was this little girl to try and question him?

Koa narrowed her darkly colored eyes. "I come because I have to. But I don't stay. I come and do what I have to do, and then I go. And if you had any lick of sense, you are your men would do the same." She then turned, looking upwards at the several, towering trees above them all. "The forest…it's been odd as of late."

"How so?" Mutoh asked sarcastically, though Link, whether he wanted to or not, was going to hear what the young woman had to say.

"You're here collecting wood, right?" she asked. "And you're only doing it, because there's not one lumberjack here in the entire country that would dare step foot in here, right?" he was about to answer; yet she went on. "There have always been tales and rumors about this place, but not until recently did folks have a genuine fear and actually begin to believe those rumors." She looked to him. "And don't get me wrong, most of it is complete trash. But…"

"But what?"

"Some of it may be rooted in fact."

Link's blue eyes widened at that. Fact? But…no. Surely no. No, it couldn't' be. The only reason he had even worked himself up to even coming here, let alone away from Mutoh to find Koa was because he kept reminding himself (or Osmivanna's voice in his head rather) that those were just stupid stories and nothing more! There was nothing to fear! Nothing! She couldn't see it, yet he was silently begging Koa to not do this to him. Not now, not while they were all still here.

"I haven't seen, but I have heard from…" she paused. As if she was contemplating what she was about to say next, as if it were potentially dangerous. "Reliable witnesses that something has indeed made its home here. Some previously unknown entity that's been trying to claim the forest as its territory." She gazed around the area. "I don't know what it is exactly, or if it was always here, but there's no way I'm staying here and going to investigate too far out."

"So wait," Mutoh began. "You've never seen this supposed 'thing', but you somehow just know it's dangerous?"

"If it wasn't something I thought was important, I wouldn't even be talking to you." she then gestured to Link. "He just had something I paid for."

Mutoh was beginning to become really irritated. Such a disrespectful kid like this really got him burned up. Acting like she was so smart. "Oh yeah? Then who are these 'witnesses' of yours? Huh? Or are you just repeating what you heard from town?"

Koa glared. "I'm not telling you that."

"Why not? Because I'm right, or do you just not have any?"

She began to grow incredibly mad. "I don't owe you an answer, old fool." She went past him, bumping past his arm. Whether on purpose or not, he didn't get the chance to chastise her, as she was already on her way. "If you insist on staying here, then at the very least, keep a fire lit. Even something like that must hold some fear of it."

With that, Koa went off with her mushrooms and grinder, leaving Mutoh and Link alone.

"That little…" Mutoh growled, nearly breaking the sticks he collected. "Who does that little brat think she is?! I don't know kids today. So disrespectful…no regard for their elders!" though he was still frustrated, he remembered that he had company. "Sorry, Link. Just needed to get some of that out." Looking around, he then told the young man, "It's getting dark. I'll lead you to where we're setting up." He was more than relieved with this.

As they continued on, Mutoh was thankful they only had to go a short distance in this place. Indeed, while he wasn't going to give that brat Koa any sort of credit, it was slightly unnerving to be here at such an hour where the sun was setting. But what she said…was ridiculous. She was being pretty evasive, as if she thought even mentioning these 'witnesses' was a mistake, like it could lead to something bad happening. Still, despite her attitude, she seemed like she was trying to tell him and his men to be careful. Like he wouldn't. He had been in situations like this before, where he and his men had to get their own wood, and honestly, while there were a good number of potential dangers to perhaps watch out for, there hasn't been anything that happened to him yet. He knew how to take care of himself, and those bumbling slackers with him. Besides, Mayor Kravindish's order for the bridge was absolute. It wouldn't look good if they had to turn it down. And besides, despite himself, Mutoh was too prideful to let anyone of his customers, especially the Mayor himself down yet.

* * *

Far away, a great distance from where Link and Mutoh were, past the fields of Hyrule, past the great Death Mountain and other surrounding territory of the native peoples there, and even further still, lay the coastline of the land and beyond that, the great and massive ocean. And as Link was leaving the dense, mysterious forest, one had just begun to arrive. Not only to Hyrule, but to the land of the waking.

It took a good few moments for the motionless form in the sand to rouse; yet when the third wave washed up upon her did she finally begin to stir. Along with that return to consciousness, the aches and pains returned to her as well, the salty water and sand burning the open sores and cuts all over her. It was also when she realized that she had been promptly tossed from her raft. Not that it mattered much, given that from the logs sticking out of the sand, there wasn't much of her vessel anymore.

The young woman was definitely not a native of the land she had just come to, her skin a deep tan and hair a vibrant red, attire consisting of colorful, tropical clothing perfect for the hot, glaring sun. She wore a tan, sleeveless top around her upper half that ended below her breasts with a long cloth of vibrant blue fastened into a belt around her waist, enough left to fashion the rest of it into a bow. It was fastened to hold a small shirt to her waist, the skirt being torn in several places and a far cry from what it once was. Yet still, it bore its golden and green colors. The skirt that lay below that was in even worse shape though, barely able to count as a skirt at all and having a large chunk of it torn off, leaving her right leg from foot to upper thigh exposed. Around her neck, she found as she felt them, her beads and teeth that composed of her necklaces remained intact…along with a long whistle kept on a string. Still…even if it was probably impossible to have come all this way, maybe it…ah! There it was!

Stationed in the sand not but a few feet away, even if it took her a good moment or two to regain her sense of balance, she stumbled over to it, picking it up instantly. A hairpiece, fashioned out of clay and old coral and shells. It wasn't large, able to fit in her hand, yet it bore the clay figure of a red flower, one of the tropical plants that grew all around her homeland. In fact, her father made this for her on her birthday not long ago. So that she would always have something beautiful to put in her hair…that, and the whistle, and the clothes on her back were all that she had left now.

To think, not but two mornings ago did she depart from her home, though it was far from any choice of hers. She would've stayed there for the rest of her days and generations afterward from her would do the same. Yet at the behest of the elders, any and all that could escape from the raging battle for dominion over the island, would do best to escape. Her parents stayed, as there were not enough boats, giving her the flute she had thankfully held onto.

She was lucky, in retrospect, to still be among the living, yet now, she was wondering as to whether or not dying out in the harsh, unforgiving waters would've been better. Here she was, soaked and with no knowledge of what this land was, let alone where she was or what it held. Not to mention she had no money to speak of, and the clothes soaked in salt water wouldn't sell for a single…whatever it was they used here. Besides, she didn't even know if she could speak their language!

Still…wherever she was, she could maybe find a place to at least rest for a bit. Maybe even a place where a boat would be, in case for when she went back. If she could go back. With nowhere else she could go, and with little else to do, the red haired, tan skinned woman began moving forward, her hair matching that of the setting sun.

**Hyrule Field**

Finally, to be free from that forest! Even more, he wouldn't have to return to it for some time, if that grinder managed to stay unbroken and the old man back home wouldn't send him out there again.

"Going a little fast, aren't you, Link?"

He also had to account for the fact that there was someone else with him. Link and Brent were atop of the horse used to pull the wagon, now unhitched and riding across the field back to Harkinian Town. If it wasn't for the fact that Brent was with him, he wouldn't have urged the stallion they both rode upon to slow down slightly. Frankly, as unwise as it possibly was, Link absolutely adored the sensation of the horse going free and riding to its heart's content. Not so fast where he couldn't stay on, but to where it was teetering just below that level, yet never quite got there. Just enough speed, just enough jostling and just enough wind in his hair to have it remain in his control.

It was something he discovered when he was not but a young lad that had just been offered by Terran's father to try and mount one of their horses. He was hesitant at first, outright terrified and actually refused to. Of course, whether it was due to him trying to get him to face his fears or him just being a crotchety old man, Osmivanna accused him of not being a real man (even though he was just ten), and told him that he'd never cut it as an apprentice if he couldn't go and do something simple like that.

Suffice to say, his ten-year-old self, fearful as he was, still held some sort of pride regarding his 'manhood' present even at his age, and he so, he got atop of the brown steed.

Which is when it took off.

It didn't go far, if anything, it just took a little sprint around the corral, and Link was actually screaming his head off as the steed kept going. Yet as it went on, and as Terran, his father, and Osmivanna tried to chase it down and get him, Link found that the horse wasn't running mad like he thought. It was actually at a rather reasonable pace, just the shock of not moving at all to moving suddenly got to him, he supposed. After a few more minutes of this and beginning to adjust to the fast paced sensation, Link found himself actually liking it. Better yet, absolutely loving it.

Since then, he had added horses as some of his favorite creatures to be created by the Great Goddesses, for surely they were nothing short of the most magnificent creatures he had come to know. And now, whenever he got the chance to, even if it was just to look at them, Link always wanted to go to Lon Lon Ranch and see them firsthand. To feel their faces against his hands, to feel them eating food he could give them, anything. Just to see them was more than enough.

And if he was fortunate, he'd see that red one out here somewhere.

"Hey, we're here!" Brent shouted, Link brought out of his thoughts and seeing that indeed, they had reached the gates of Harkinian Town. Well, he did at least. Brent wasn't going back to town for a bit. "Well, guess this is where you get off, right?"

Link nodded, somewhat saddened to have to leave the horse, to have to give it back, yet still, Brent needed the stallion more than he. Wanted, no, but as Osmivanna said, 'needs are more important than wants.' Getting off, Brent scooted forward and took the reins, urging the equine to turn around. "Tell your gramps thanks for the saw." Brent told the young man. "I may not really be that much of a 'manly man', but I completely respect hard work, despite what the Boss might think." This wasn't to say that he was hateful towards him. Despite his crass and harsh nature, Brent considered Mutoh a good, hardy man. A little grumpy but still, a good guy. "Take care of yourself, Link. You're a good boy."

Going off, the stallion off to the forest again, Link began to walk through the archway welcoming those coming to town.

He had come into the northern part of town again, yet now, he was far from the only person coming. Actually, yes he was. He was coming, yet these groups of people rushing towards him were going! Link was thankful that the weight of the sack on his back wasn't what it was before; otherwise, he probably wouldn't have been able to duck out of the way of the oncoming carts and their ponies pulling them. Clasping his hands over his pointed ears, the sudden burst of noise far from something he'd welcome anytime at all, Link was fortunate that at the very least, the leaving vendors were leaving mostly on the path set out of town. Though it clearly wasn't all of them, goodness no (otherwise Link probably wouldn't have been able to duck out of the way in time), yet still, he found the fact they were still here a bit unusual. Though as quickly as the rush of wagons and ponies came, they were gone, leaving Link in a small, empty space of grass by the town's gates.

"Looks like you took a bit of a tumble." A voice suddenly said, Link looking from his position, he came to realize that there was someone above him.

A young woman, in fact not much older or younger than he. Said young woman was carrying some sort of sack of her own over her shoulder, thought from the light rustling and tinkling heard from inside, it seemed to be a bundle of rupees. Long, full hair of golden blonde rested atop her head, feathered like tips coming outward from behind her pointed ears as if like tiny wings. A bit of a contrast, seeing as the rest of it was rather straight. Her attire was not that of a rich individual like the Mayor, a simple, blue top with a white flap collar and short, puffed out sleeves, and light brown vest over top and ending below her ribs with a collar that rose up and fanned outward. Her other half consisted of a pair of peanut colored trousers fastened with a standard, leather belt, and covered at the mid shin by a pair of boots.

Though any of those details weren't what caught Link's attention when he became aware of her presence. Under her collar, yet resting atop of her blue top was a relatively small, red orb attached to a simple string and hanging around her neck. It was brief, and at first, Link wasn't even sure he had truly seen it, yet for a moment, he could've sworn that something was carved onto it. Like some sort of symbol.

"If you had jumped in the other direction, I probably would've let you in the shop until the herd finished charging through." The girl chuckled, Link hoisting himself up and looking in the direction she spoke of. "All it'd cost you is five rupees. No, no, I'm kidding."

He however, wasn't paying attention to her small jest, as his attention was now caught by said building that rested near the town's entrance. There was nothing overly special about it, a reasonably sized structure of wood, yet from the looks of it, in the direction he was previously going when he had left town for the ranch, he completely missed the bull's eye painted on the building's side, along with a crude drawing of an open treasure chest with three rupees popping out. What sort of place was this?

"From that bulge you've got, I assume that you made a good amount today. Am I right?" another voice asked, this one coming from behind both of them. The young woman scoffed, though not in an unfriendly way. It was clear that there was some sort of relation between these two.

The other individual that had just come upon them had bore a good deal of traits like the young woman Link had just come upon (or she came to him), yet also a good deal of traits were very different.

Both had light blue eyes and long, blonde hair, though this girl's seemed a bit more full and wavy in comparison, small, bun like twists done in her hair and resting behind her ears where a series of decorated pins or a single hair ornament rested in each, Link wasn't sure, yet it gave the appearance of them being decorated with white flower petals. Ironic, seeing, as she seemed to have the appearance of a 'flower girl' of sorts. Her attire was far more feminine than the others, a cream shirt with a similar looking collar and sleeves, though far longer and ending at her elbows. Above the undershirt rested a pink, sleeveless dress like garment that ended at her knees and flowed, golden trims coming above lighter shaded coloring at the end. Underneath were a pair of puffed out, short trousers that ended just a bit below the dress. The garment was kept in place mainly by a belt with two pockets fastened around her waist; the material matched that of her footwear, two short, leather shoes and simple cream socks.

In her hands, she carried a woven basket that once bore something inside it, yet what those contents could've been wasn't what got Link's attention. For around this girl's neck too was a stone on a string of a far lighter blue, yet still, it looked near identical to the one around the other girl's neck. Even more, this one appeared to have the same sort of marking on it as well!

In response to her inquiry, the blue dressed girl presented the sack full of rupees to her. "I don't know. You tell me."

The pink dressed girl in turn quirked a brow, coming to see the bag for herself, feeling its weight with her hand. "Hmm…maybe just a TEENSY bit underweight."

The girl grimaced at that statement. "I knew it. Should've charged ten rupees a game."

"Look, I'm kidding." The pink girl said. "It's fine. Dad's going to be pleased with this amount."

"He better!" the blue girl declared, triumphantly holding up the fruits of her labor. "After all that talk I had to hear from him about how 'you're going to be getting a bunch of rowdy gamblers in this town', he won't much mind them with all of this here!" though it was then that the two young woman once again became aware that they were not alone. "Oh, yeah." The blue girl said. "Sort of forgot you were there." She told Link, who, while acknowledging them, still said nothing in response. "Quiet guy, isn't he?"

The pink girl thankfully didn't seem too perturbed by this, instead greeting him with a small smile. "Maybe. But there's no harm if he wants to be." She then looked to the sack on his back. "Besides, he's probably been having to run all around town with that thing on his back."

Technically all around Hyrule (even if it was a bit of a stretch), but still, Link was thankful for the awareness.

"Oh, wait!" the pink dressed girl said suddenly, as if she just realized something vital. "I remember who you are now!" the blue dressed girl was confused, yet the other still continued. "Ereen, you remember too, right? The blacksmith's apprentice? On the western side of town?"

It took a moment for her to think about it, yet she quickly got what the other was saying. "Oh yeah!" she exclaimed. "Wait," then she looked to Link. "You live with that crotchety old fossil?"

"Ereen!"

"Oh, don't you go trying to take some moral high ground, Cybele! You know it's true!"

The pink girl, assumedly Cybele, was about to retort to whom Link in turn assumed was Ereen, only to find that, regrettably, she didn't really have any sort of counter prepared. And she probably would've left it at that had he not been there to hear it all.

"Well…surely, you've seen that he's really a good guy, right?" Cybele asked, Link only able to present, at best, a small, unsure smile. Not to say that he wouldn't try and defend the old man, yet being put on spot like this wasn't exactly something he was good at dealing with. Seeing that she probably wasn't going to get anything, she changed the topic. "Anyway, sorry about that. We kind of got caught up to where we didn't even introduce ourselves."

It was then that Link realized that indeed, he didn't know who these two young women were by name, but they seemed familiar. Yes, he had seen them somewhere. Somewhere he particularly enjoyed going whenever he had the time, as well as the money to spend.

"I'm Cybele." The pink dressed girl told him, then looking over to the other, as if silently urging her to continue from where she left off.

"And I'm Ereen." The blue dressed girl confirmed. "Surely you've seen us, given how much dad talks about you and your 'customer loyalty'."

Granted, thinking about it more, he had seen them before, yes, at one of, if not his favorite place in all of town, Harbanno's Bakery. He unfortunately didn't get to go in that direction today, nor did Osmivanna have any requests from them, yet still, he had gotten to go to the ranch, so he couldn't complain much. Besides, on this day of the week, to his dismay, it was closed, so there was no point of even going to take a peek inside at the delicacies that were on sale for that day. Yet still, he had seen these two girls, yes, but he had just assumed that they were hired help! He wouldn't ever suspect that they were actually the baker's daughters!

Harbanno, as bright and cheerful a man as he was, and one of Link's favorite people in town, possibly in all of Hyrule (even if sometimes for more self-serving, gluttony related reasons), he was a far cry from the blonde haired, blue eyed girls before him. Well, perhaps the blue eyes, as he bore those, yet everything else was quite the contrast, one of the most obvious being that the baker, whether it was because he himself wasn't so fortunate in the gene department or due to him savoring some of his own cakes, he was rather plump compared to his supposed daughters, who were relatively normal. Though judging between the two, Ereen seemed to bear a bit more of a stronger figure than Cybele, who was leaning more towards petite.

Yet he just realized. They introduced themselves, they told him their names. And now, "By the way," they would ask him the same. "What's your name?"

He knew it. Whatever sort of mutual friendliness was sent crashing down to the pit of his stomach, Link responding only with silence as the two girls continued to look on.

"Hello?" he heard Ereen ask, though that was all she got to ask as he immediately made a mad dash forward, the sack nearly slipping from his shoulders as he ran. Ereen and Cybele looked on, confused and to a degree, regretfully, as it seemed that such a simple and arbitrary question gave the young man quite a bit of distress. "Whoa." Ereen observed, turning to her sister. "What's the matter with him?"

"I don't know." Cybele admitted, though she was not happy with what happened. "Was it something I said?"

"What did you even say?" Ereen asked. "All you did was ask the guy his name-"

"Yeah, but…oh no." Cybele placed her hand over her mouth, realizing what she had just done.

"Oh no what?"

"I think I just made a huge mistake."

"What kind of mistake?"

Though her inquiry went unanswered, Ereen looked on in the same direction as her sister, at first puzzled, yet it steadily began to come back to her. Particularly, what her father said about the young man whenever he entered.

'It's a good thing he's pretty vocal with his hands.' She remembered him say. 'Knows right were to point and which shelf its sitting on. Doesn't really say much though. Actually, I don't think I heard him say much of anything at all.'

While yes, that far from gave her any clear answers as to why the young man was so silent, Ereen and Cybele could at least gather that something, whatever it was, was unusual in that department. Why, neither knew, yet from how he looked, it was far from something he particularly liked to have attention drawn to.

And despite herself, like her sister, Ereen found herself actually beginning to feel guilt.

**Far Away, Beyond Hyrule's Mountains**

Honestly, he had no idea what to do when he saw her by the road. Whether it was a drifter or some thug wanting to knife him, Almon didn't know. And frankly, he was hoping that he wouldn't have to find out. Yet still, she saw him. And by the Goddesses, did she come charging at him. He assumed the worst at that point, and began to urge his horses to begin moving again, hoping to get a head start before this lunatic managed to reach him. Though upon seeing said lunatic reach up and climb into the cart, it was clear that she was far faster than he gave credit, and two, it was impressive she could even run, let alone stand.

So now, here he was, on his way to deliver some freshly picked corn to the pot awaiting him at home, only to have his journey to a warm, boiled cob interrupted by a red haired, tan skinned woman that barely knew a lick of their language. He had tried to get something out of her, first being who she thought she was simply climbing her way into his cart. Yet all she did was holler and scream at him strange foreign words he didn't understand, all the while shoving something into his hands, a small pouch of sorts, equally soaked with what seemed to be salt water. Surely she couldn't have come from across the ocean, right?

Opening the pouch, a handful of small, shiny stones fell into his hand. She was trying to offer him payment for a ride.

It was then that Almon felt guilt for assuming the young woman was some nut job, let alone a potential mugger, along with even more confusion as to how, if she was indeed not native to this land, she even came here in the first place. Surely she didn't swim the entire way from wherever she had originally been.

He couldn't get much more out of her, yet at the very least, from her constant gesturing and pointing forward, he could tell that she wanted him to take her somewhere. She was fortunate that the road to his home lead to a nearby town, as it was clear that she wouldn't be able to find food, as those stones she had were pretty much useless in Hyrule.

Still, even with that, she seemed to agree to eat with him, as she eyed the corn in greedy hunger, yet when he offered a place to sleep at his hut (having to motion it out for her), she shook her head. Why she refused to stay, he didn't know, yet apparently, she kept motioning to the flute around her neck and stating something intelligible again. Whatever it was, it was apparently important enough for her to keep going.

"So, are you sure?" he asked, adjusting his hat. "Seriously, there's enough room."

The red haired girl didn't know exactly what he said, yet still, she knew what he was referring to, so she shook her head.

"Okay, fine." He answered, defeated. "Still though, just until morning?"

She didn't know exactly, yet still, what he was telling her seemed to resonate. He motioned for her with his hands something raising…then the motion for sleeping. Sleep…stay…until morning?

Seeing her repeat them, Almon nodded. "Yeah, until morning at least." He looked on ahead. "I don't know if you've heard…and considering everything, you probably haven't." she certainly wasn't Hylian, lacking in pointed ears. "But there's been some reports of strange things happening in the main part of the country." She looked curious. "I don't really know what, I don't go there a lot. But from what I've heard, there's been a good number of people turning up missing. Why or how, I don't really know, but I think that a young girl like yourself walking alone at night is a recipe for trouble. So until morning, you're staying somewhere safe."

She wasn't entirely aware of what he was saying to her, yet from his face, the way his brow creased, whatever it was, it wasn't exactly something good. It began to make her think that maybe…maybe she had made a mistake in coming here, not that it was her choice to crash ashore. Still, the whistle in her hand…if she hadn't blown it during the storm…then she wouldn't have been…there was nothing else to it. She was here now, and ultimately, she had nowhere else she could go.

Nowhere else but forward in this unknown land.

**Harkinian Town, Osmivanna's Shop**

At the very least, his dinner didn't get tossed out with him being late.

Link knew that somehow, in some way, even if just by a few, short minutes, he'd be later than what Osmivanna cared for. He had threatened that if he was too late, he'd toss his cold food out for the animals in the forest nearby over the fence. Granted, this had never happened, and was probably just a bit of a scare tactic to get him to not be tardy, but there was always a lingering fear that perhaps someday, the old man might just get impatient enough to do it.

Though tonight, as the two of them sat at the small, wooden table stationed in the loft with filled bowls of thick, lamb stew, another problem seemed to be noticed by the sharp old blacksmith.

And frankly, perhaps Osmivanna wouldn't have noticed at all. In fact, he seemed to be pretty normal…until he mentioned that tonight; they were going to go over his 'cards' again. Then, when the stew was put out, he noticed some striking signs something was up.

"All right boy, I'm done guessing." He said, crossing his arms and looking directly at Link. "What's up with you tonight? And before you go all 'what do you mean', take a look at my bowl and yours." Indeed, one had been near completely empty whilst the other wasn't even halfway empty. "So before I think of giving you a lecture about wasting food, perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to what's robbed you of an appetite?"

Link was hoping he wasn't going to notice, but no such luck. Figured, given that little to nothing slipped past him. At least Osmivanna wouldn't ask him what was wrong. The young man sighed; one of the few things he could do with his vocals properly, and began to lightly pat his throat, hoping the old man would get what he was indicating.

"Who said something?" the blacksmith growled. "Show me where and-" Link shook his head, urging the old man to sit back down.

Another reason why he didn't like having to tell him these things, as sometimes he resembled Mutoh's way of doing things when he got angry. Besides, the two girls didn't make fun of him or anything for it. They were just…a little confused, was all. And maybe he did overreact a bit. It was just a sore spot he dealt with.

Thankfully, he seemed to get the message: it wasn't an intentional offense, but still, he didn't like it. "Look son," the old man began. "I don't know what's going on with your voice or lack thereof, but it's nothing that needs any shame attached to it. It's just something that…is." He looked then to a pile of cards atop of the small dresser next to Link's bed. "Besides, whether you like to do it or not, you have been getting better. You're able to even say full sentences now!"

Well, small sentences, but granted, it was something, he supposed. Better than nothing, but still, Link found that it was both simpler and more natural for him to not say anything at all unless he so chose to do so. And even then, those were moments far and in between, given how since youth, the simple act of talking, let alone getting a simple syllable out was fraught with near impossibility. Plus, how he sounded when he actually tried to talk…ugh. Osmivanna, Mutoh, Terran and his father, all of them told him that he sounded fine, yet still, the way he forced words out made it clear that something was wrong with him. What exactly, he didn't know, but it was something all right.

No one knew what to call it, not even the physician he had been to see all the way in Castle Town, one of, if perhaps the only time he had gone to the luxurious area. He couldn't exactly remember it, yet he showed that he could read and write fine. It was just speaking that was the problem. Link didn't know why, but the translation from his brain to his tongue…something either got mixed up or didn't even get there, but whatever it was, it always made the words sound…well, it made them sound like gibberish. He found that, as Osmivanna introduced the hated and dreaded 'word cards' when he was ten, over the past six years, he had begun to get a better grasp on forcing his tongue to move the right way.

Yet those moments, thankfully for Link, were far and in between, as no matter what anyone said, and even if he would, by some miracle, learn to speak as his grandfather or anyone else in the town did, he had come to accept and love the motto of silence being golden.

"Now, you get to eating that or I AM going to throw it out to the animals."

That was all he needed before Link began gobbling the stew down, outright even helping himself to more lest the blacksmith not be fully convinced.

Osmivanna didn't openly show it, but he was more than humored by the boy's display of eating rather voraciously in front of him just to prove he wasn't wasteful. At least this meant he got to use those vegetables he got from the market before they went bad. As he ate, the old man found himself looking out of the window over the boy's bed, the sight that had so captivated him this morning now drawing his attention.

Yet to him, the sight of the old structure was nothing short of an absolute disgrace. It was barely more then a pile of stones now…did people around here even KNOW what it was for? Why it was made, heck, why it was even left standing in the first place, despite its decrypted state?

"Disgraceful…" he muttered under his breath. "Absolutely disgraceful." Noticing Link looking from his bowl and to the old man, he had regretted not keeping that sentiment internalized. "It's nothing boy." He assured. "Just…make sure to clear out most of this stew, you hear?"

While that got the young man back to eating, if not out of simple obedience, Osmivanna continued to eye the dismantled structure from afar, nestled miles away in Castle Town. Link was fascinated by it, if not simply because it was falling apart, yet no one had thought to tear it down yet. He was thankful for that, in a way, yet the old man couldn't help but sense that its slow decay was an indicator that soon, it would be time.

A time that, if he was honest, wished wouldn't ever have to come, seeing as even after all these years, he still wasn't prepared in any way. Yet still, it would come, and to his shame and regret, he had to acknowledge that when that day came, whenever it was, he may not live to see this young man in front of him again.

* * *

Even as his weak, frail form was brought forth in front of the gathering of spectators below, the thin, lean, and starved Hylian fought and kicked akin to a terrified, cornered animal. And in many aspects, Fari realized, as he was eventually subdued and chained to the aged, stone pillar, that he too, was little more than a terrified, cornered animal.

How long had he even been here? Days, he knew for sure, yet for how many days? Let alone how many weeks? Perhaps even months? Honestly, his track of time had become non-existent the moment he had woken up in his cell. Despite himself, the son of a noble, one who bore the title of 'lord' in the royal court, he found himself very lacking in the department of composure and self control at first. If it wasn't for his cellmate, he wasn't sure he would've survived.

And when his cellmate had been chosen, he was sure that, at that moment, he was actually willing to go right with him, for what happened to those chosen, he didn't know (until now), yet they never returned. He was similar to him in many ways, the son of a knight. Upon seeing Fari's own panic and fear, he promised to protect him, detailing grand feats and tales passed down from his father. It was now, more than ever, arms and legs chained to this pillar, that he wished he tried to stop them from taking him, if not to just ease the ache in his chest that he sat back like a coward. There was nothing he could do, his friend even told him so as he was dragged away…but still…it was better to go out protecting him than like this.

He wasn't naked, yet he was far from clothed, little more than some horrid, old cloth that hung around his waist on his person. They had forcibly torn his garments from his body when he was taken from his cell into a small, secluded room, where he was to be 'prepared' for the 'ritual'. His auburn hair was messy and unkempt, and his blue eyes were now completely glassy and dull. Though, if some that had been fortunate enough to see him as they too were taken to their own cells, they would've assumed that his eyes had always looked so lifeless and despondent.

And below him, watching him as if enchanted, if not even aroused by what they were seeing, were hoards of hooded, cloaked figures of black. There was no distinct average size or girth, they all seeming to range from short to tall to thin to fat. And judging from what he was seeing, Fari would've assumed that some of these individuals weren't even humanoid at all. In fact, some appeared to be of different races entirely.

The area was sparsely lit, only lit by the red candles nestled in various places in the stone walls, they having been used so many times that the wax had begun to trail itself down the walls' surface. Yet despite that, as well as having no idea where he was, Fari couldn't deny that even in his simple cloth, the heat down here was rather intense. Whether this was indicative of this place, wherever it was being a rather hot location, or that simply it had rather good insolation, he didn't know, yet surely they couldn't be TOO far from Hyrule. In fact, if his kidnappers had taken him by foot or horse, and he knew not of any other way they could've, then surely he couldn't be too far away! He couldn't be! He…he couldn't be.

Even now, as his fate was clear, there was still some small sliver of him that still hoped, prayed for rescue.

Instead, it seemed, the young man was rewarded with the sound of incoming footsteps echoing throughout the chamber. Due to the lighting and his position, he couldn't exactly see where they were coming from, yet as his head, the one part of him he could indeed move, went back and forth, his eyes almost always fell on one particular object that had been stationed before him. How he didn't notice it until now, he assumed it was due to his panic, yet now that he had seen it, it was impossible to not gaze upon, a fact that both intrigued and terrified him.

A strange sort of structure it was, Fari not exactly sure what to call it at first, for it looked little like anything that should've been in such a place, as if from what he had seen (as well as heard) indicated, the people here had little if no respect for the dead. A medium sized container of sorts constructed of incredibly dark material, perhaps obsidian, sat before him, being propped up, or more appropriately, held up by two outstretched hands that seemed to emerge from below. The hands were attached to a simple, trapezoidal stone of similar color, the container itself being held up bearing markings and symbols that the young man didn't recognize.

All except for one.

From where he was chained, he could see that from his position, in the very center of the container, was the engraving of three, perfectly shaped and identical triangles. He didn't need any education about this symbol, let alone what it referred to, yet around it, were what appeared to be two hands, similar to the ones that held it up, reaching for the sacred symbol, longingly, hungrily almost.

And there were its contents, as really, there was nothing in it but strange, black powder. Power…or perhaps ash? Was this container an urn of some kind? And if so, whose ashes were IN said urn?

The sense of touch, however, sensed that someone else was here as two hands place themselves on his bare shoulders, bringing his focus away from the urn and to the tall, darkly dressed individual that had approached him from behind. Walking in front to where he could see, this figure bore a similar, black robe like his 'audience' below the stand, yet from behind the hood, Fari could distinctly see a face. Or…was it was as mask?

Upon further inspection, the young man saw that indeed, it was a mask, yet rather, it resembled that of protective armor. Two dark, circular holes bore into his blue eyes, a stone affixed above the holes. Wait…a stone stationed above the eyes…yes, he had known of such a thing before. He remembered! The customs of the cursed people, the desert barbarians! They-

"AHH!"

His realization was cut off upon realizing that, in this state, he hadn't even realized that his bare chest had been dealt a rather large, diagonal gash. Far from deep, and even further from fatal, yet still, deep enough for fresh blood to drip freely. The weapon that had done such to him was a dagger, a rather ancient one from the looks of it, the blade and general structure bearing no resemblance to any weapon he was familiar with. The blade was old and worn with evident age, the handle a dull brown and wrapped in faded, dusty brown bandages of sorts. Yet what struck out the most was the shape of the blade and the gemstone affixed to the crossguard. The gemstone was of a deep orange, topaz perhaps, and the blade held two other protrusions coming out from either side at the crossguard, making the dagger resemble a trident slightly.

His assaulter, upon looking at the now covered blade with much debilitation and interest, held it over the urn of black ash. Gravity easing and inching it along, one lone drop fell into the container. Suddenly, as if his own blood, his own life, had caused some sort of chain reaction, the symbols carved into the urn began to glow. A deep violet hue coursed its way through the etchings, Fari suddenly finding the chamber, instead of incredibly hot, growing incredibly cold, as if something was robbing the room of all its heat. The violet hue grew stronger and stronger, the glow now evolving into a strong light, and then…it faded away.

Fari held no idea what was going on, let alone what or why his blood produced such a reaction, yet from the hooded, masked figure's body language, stiff and rigid, fists clenching in frustration, this wasn't a good sign.

The figure, his attacker, then roughly took him by the chin, turning his head this way and that, almost as if surveying him. They gazed and observed his barely naked form, particularly at how lean he was.

In fact, as they then said, Fari's ears barely able to register what they were hearing, "Too lean."

This figure spoke. They had a voice. No, not just one. But…two? Yet…yet how could that be? There was only one in front of him?

"Unfortunate, really." The dagger was brought close to him, positioned right over his throat. "Your friend proved to be quite an asset for us as of late. But as for you, well…" they paused, Fari noticing that, to his horror, something, some form, was beginning to materialize from the ash that was in the urn. "…consider it fortunate that with this, you'll at least satiate our lord for a time."


End file.
